


urgent need of gravity

by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)



Series: 'cause you make me feel gorgeous [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Flirting, Body Image, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff, M/M, Makeup Artist!Yuuri, Model!Viktor, Modeling, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 122,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9357374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitsugi_Zirkus/pseuds/RennieOnIceCream
Summary: "Yuuri," Phichit waved the magazine in front of his face, "you collect every single magazine that Viktor is in, have his spreads on your wall, follow his fashion tours online, and probably fantasize about seductively applying his lipstick. I say, what do you have to lose?"Yuuri opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he reached out and snatched his magazine back. How the hell did Phichit know about that fantasy anyway?OR,AU in which Yuuri is a make-up artist working in a small salon when he's suddenly invited to work for big time fashion brand Stammi Vicino right alongside its top male model, Viktor Nikiforov, and love isn't all glitter and perfectly-winged eyeliner.





	1. not because i'm really that deserving of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it, my first yoi series. this all started because a model au smut with yuuri worshiping viktor's nipples spiraled out of control. majorly. i don't even know anything about the fashion world outside of the few seasons of america's next top model i used to watch when i was like. 12. i'm doing by best on research where i can though, so please stick with me :")
> 
> title of fic is from garbage's "afterglow". title of chapter is from marina and the diamonds' "primadonna"

_God_.

Long hair really didn’t suit him. He had no idea what he was thinking.

Originally, he grew it out a little so that the roundness of his cheeks wouldn’t be as prominent with hair framing his face, but now he was wondering if that was really a good idea. It was almost long enough now to put in a small ponytail, so he pulled his hair back to test the look, tilting his head this way and that. With the largeness of his eyes and long lashes, plus the aforementioned softness of his face, he kind of looked feminine. Weird, awkward high school girl feminine.

There was nothing for it. He was gonna have to hack at his hair.

“ _Yuu_ _ri_ , stop poking fun of yourself in front of the mirror, you look _fine_!” A second face joined his reflection, belonging to that of Minako, his long-time mentor and now boss. Her lips shimmering with lip gloss spread in her characteristic large smile at him. Her face was angular, beautiful even with her chestnut hair pulled back in a stylish bun. Yuuri tried not to be too jealous of her mature attractiveness.

“I’m not poking fun at myself,” he said, quickly dropping his hand, and his eyes from the mirror.

Minako patted a manicured hand to the top of his head, rustling his hair. “I personally think you look cute with long hair. You just have to style it a bit.” Her eyes were sparkling with inspiration when he glanced over at her, and Yuuri knew such a look never boded well for him.

Sure enough, he was pushed into one of the salon’s plush leather chairs and Minako pulled a comb from her back pocket. She stepped between him and the mirror, so he was forced to memorize the swirly patterns on her blouse as she worked.

“See, we just part your hair like _so_ , and pin _these_ strands back, comb this down a bit like _this_ and like _that_ ~” She half-sang her directions, beaming proudly when she finally stepped to the side in a flourish. “And ta-da~”

Yuuri stared at himself, halfway between laughing and hiding his face. Minako had combed half his bangs in his face, pinning the rest back. It was simple but stylish -- but it looked too weird on Yuuri in his opinion.

“And what’s this?”

“Well, you should know it.” Minako bumped a hip against his arm. “I call it the Viktor Nikiforov look.”

“Oh my _god_ .” Yuuri _did_ bury his face in his hands then, embarrassment tugging at the corners of his lips. Minako laughed, even when the front door to the salon chimed. She left to tend to the customer, leaving Yuuri to start taking pins out of his hair.

“Oh, welcome, Yuu-chan!”

“Good afternoon, everyone!” The greeting was given out to all the shop, which consisted of just Yuuri and Minako since it was a slow day. Nonetheless, both employees waved at the cute young woman who comfortably stepped in and hugged them each in turn.

When she got to Yuuri, she laughed at him frantically messing up his hair to get his bangs styled back into place. “Yuuri, what are you doing?”

“Uh. Nothing. Ahaha, hey, Yuuko.” Yuuri got up from the chair and hugged his childhood friend, smiling. “Good to see you today. What brings you in?”

Yuuko’s eyes were sparkling when Yuuri pulled back, her lips spread in barely-contained joy. Whatever secret she had wouldn’t be locked away for long -- Yuuko was excitable like that. Her cheeks became flushed light pink when she said, “Oh, you know, today is me and Takeshi’s fifth anniversary, so…”

“Oho! Congratulations, Yuu-chan!” Minako clapped her hands together in celebration. “If you want to go out drinking to celebrate with just us girls, I can call Mari too!”

Yuuko’s blush spread. “Ehe, thank you, Minako.”

Yuuri smiled. “Congrats. I’m so happy for the two of you.”

“Thanks, Yuuri~ Since we’re planning to go out to a very nice place tonight, I really wanted to doll myself up. Do you think you can help me out with that?” She directed her question to Yuuri, and she batted her eyelashes hopefully, but she needn’t pull such a tactic when it was a request between friends.

After glancing at Minako who nodded encouragingly at him, Yuuri offered the chair he’d been in to Yuuko. “Of course. What should we get started with?”

Yuuri had been working at Minako’s beauty salon since he was a teenager, but in truth, he’d been hanging around this place for far longer. His mother and Minako were old friends, so she’d often drag Yuuri along during her appointments. Minako was versatile in her services, offering hair care, beauty treatments, and cosmetic application, and Yuuri had absorbed in everything with fascination. Eventually, he found a sort of solace in watching Minako work and being surrounded by the scents of sweet hair products and perfume. All of it was packaged in the cozy but fashionable salon with its checkered, tiled floor, glass cases filled with beauty products, and the constant stream of 90s Japanese pop music from Minako’s stereo.

As the hour flowed on, Yuuri washed, trimmed, and styled Yuuko’s hair. The pair made idle chat with Yuuko catching Yuuri up on the antics of her triplet daughters, and Yuuri talking about some notable customers over the past week. Minako was off at the reception area, taking phone calls and filling in appointments into her calendar.

Finally, Yuuri traded his combs and scissors and started pulling out various jars and make-up brushes from the racks. He knew Yuuko’s face so well that he already had just the look in mind for her. She was never big on a lot of make-up, so Yuuri went for a more natural look, spreading the foundation over her skin and putting a soft-pink lipstick over her full, smiling lips.

“I like the face you make when you do this,” Yuuko giggled.

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “What face? This is just my face.”

“I dunno? You don’t look all serious or stoic or anything. You just look like you’re having a lot of fun with it, like you’re an inspired artist and I’m your canvas.”

“That’s so weird to say, Yuu-chan,” Yuuri said with a small laugh. He pulled out a tube of mascara. “How about you stop looking at my face now and close your eyes?”

Really, he didn’t ponder Yuuko’s words too deeply. There was nothing strange about enjoying his work, and he didn’t think that he looked anything special or engaging when he did it either. Minako was the one always smiling and striking up lively conversations with customers. Yuuri just did his best and hoped that how he styled others’ appearances would make them feel confident and beautiful.

 _It’s a lot more than I can do for myself_.

He unclipped the cream-colored plastic sheet from around her neck and let her take a look at her reflection in the mirror. “Tell me if there’s anything you want done differently and I’ll fix it for you.” He smiled hopefully at her.

Yuuko leapt up from the seat, eyes even more sparkly than before, both from her excitement and the delicate shine of peach eye-shadow. She made a squealing sound, tilting her head to admire herself at different angles.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. She was practically bouncing on her feet. “Yuuri, you do wonders like always!”

Yuuri shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “You were already really pretty though, Yuu-chan.”

“Give yourself some credit, Yuuri,” Minako called from the front counter. Even from across the room, her beaming face was bright and starry-eyed. “Oh, Takeshi won’t be able to keep his eyes off you all night!”

“Ehe, you’re both so sweet~”

“Come here, come here, tell me about what you’ll be wearing! You better post pics on Instagram later!”

Yuuri started to sweep up the trimmings of Yuuko’s hair as his friend went over to Minako to pay and start up some more excited chatter. The chime of the front door opening rippled through the sound of the stereo’s music, and Yuuri put on a smile to greet the next customer.

“Welcome to Minako’s Beau--”

“ _Yuuri!_ ” A tan blur dressed in black aimed straight for Yuuri, startling the girls and nearly knocking over a display. By the time Yuuri registered enough to even say anything, hands clapped down on his shoulders, making the broom clatter out of his grip. Staring back at him were frantic dark eyes burning with energy.

“Phichit!” Yuuri exclaimed in turn. “Ah, you made me drop the broom--”

“There’s no time to care about _brooms_! Yuuri, wanna explain to me why you were ignoring my texts?”

Still disoriented from the whirlwind that his best friend and roommate had arrived in (although honestly, he should be more used to Rampage Phichit Mode by now), Yuuri only hung his jaw open. “I. Uhm. My phone is -- it’s in my jacket over there. Phichit, what’s so urgent, is something wrong?” Uselessly, he searched Phichit’s expression for an explanation, but all he was met was with that same wild frenzy he’d entered with.

“I’ve been _spamming_ you, geez!” Phichit was scowling, but he finally relaxed some in order to explain himself. In doing so, he released Yuuri with a huge breath. “Yuuri, you would _not_ believe what just happened. Okay, you know how I’ve been assisting Celestino the past few weeks?”

Slowly, Yuuri nodded, eyes still wide in bewilderment. Phichit was a model photographer, and his talent with the camera got him noticed many times over, as his photos were included in a number of blogs and magazines. His career finally reached the new heights Yuuri knew it had been destined for when he started working with big time model photographer Celestino Cialdini.

Phichit took a seat in one of the chairs then thought better of it and quickly got back up. He started pacing, hands unable to stay still as they waved in the air and ran through his hair. “We got a new gig!” he finally announced, grinning wide. “With Stammi Vicino!”

“What? Oh my god.” Now Yuuri was breaking out in a grin, huge bursts of pride filling in his chest for his best friend. Stammi Vicino was one of the largest and well-renowned fashion companies in the world, known for its diversity in both fashion and models. With every line, without fail, the designers and models would bring out something vivid and new that would utterly surprise their consumers -- not to mention the fashion world as a whole. That Phichit would get to be a part of that environment was phenomenal.

The only reason Yuuri knew about it in the first place was because of Phichit’s profession and Minako’s own love for the brand, leading the both of them to buy piles of magazines featuring SV. Yuuri was a lowkey fan himself even though he wasn’t fully engrossed in fashion -- though everyone presently in the salon would counter there was one thing, or rather person, from Stammi Vicino that Yuuri _was_ utterly engrossed by.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri repeated. “Phichit, that’s -- that’s _fantastic_!” Forgetting all about the broom, Yuuri went in for a hug.

Phichit squeezed him, laughing like he couldn’t believe his situation. And really, Yuuri didn’t blame him. This opportunity was _huge_. Phichit would learn so much and boost his credentials substantially. Yuuri couldn’t stop smiling.

Claps sounded behind them, coming from Yuuko and Minako.

“Phichit, congrats!” Yuuko said with a stunning smile.

“Today is just a day of good news, isn’t it?” Minako said. She put her hands on her hips, trying to be stern. “And kid, what did I say about running around and yelling in my salon like that? I wasn’t kidding about spraying you with water next time you did that.” She pulled out a spray bottle from the shelf, shaking it menacingly.

“Ahh, haha… Whoops, sorry, Minako.” Phichit rubbed the back of his neck with an embarrassed laugh. But his excitement couldn’t be held for long. He turned back to Yuuri, bouncing in place. “The good news train is still trekking though. Listen to me, Yuuri, there’s a shoot coming up real soon, like, _two days_ soon.”

“Whoa, Stammi Vicino doesn’t waste time, huh?”

Phichit nodded. “Right. Which is why I overheard the models panicking when one of the make-up artists suddenly declared he wasn't gonna come in for work. Long story short? I may have name-dropped you to them.”

While Phichit kept talking, Yuuri finally bent down to pick up the broom. As soon as Phichit’s last words left his mouth though, it clattered right back to the floor. Yuuri looked up with wide eyes.

“You -- _what_?” His voice cracked.

Phichit was grinning, looking like he was proud to be the messenger to such legendary news. “Yup, so never let it be said that your guy Phichit doesn’t have your back. I told them about you and gave them your name and contact info.”

“ _You what?_ ” Yuuri’s broken shriek rose in volume. Uselessly, he flailed his hands in the air, then gripped the nearby chair for support. “Phichit, you-- I mean, what did they-- Wh-what _happened_ after you did that?”

“Well it was Mila Babicheva and her agent. He didn’t seem all that keen but I showed Mila some pictures I had of your work and she’s willing to give you a shot. Yuuri,” Phichit slowed down to make sure this was really sinking in, “you’re going to be a make-up artist for Stammi Vicino!”

It was like Phichit’s words were going in one ear and out the other. Words ceased having any meaning to Yuuri, his friend’s voice sliding right off his body, which was frozen. Somehow, his brain managed to spark to life long enough to connect the important snippets. Even then, he refused to believe it.

Yuuko and Minako were exclaiming in a frenzy of squeals and were now dashing right over. They took turns shaking Phichit and Yuuri by the shoulders, and that was what ultimately snapped Yuuri out of his stupor. When time started up again, all of that bubbling anxiety burst in a fervent flurry inside him.

“I-- That’s-- _How_ did you pull that off? Phichit, I’m not good enough to do make-up work for _models_ . _Stammi Vicino_ models!” Yuuri was fisting his hair, panic seizing his chest. He wanted to simultaneously sit down but also run screaming down the street. “I only work here at Minako’s salon, I don’t even have professional credentials, that’s-- This is--!”

Everyone went silent, waiting out Yuuri’s first burst of anxiety-induced ranting. Gentle Yuuko was the first to reach out, taking his hand. Yuuri squeezed it, letting her touch ground him.

“This is insane,” he finally said, voice hoarse.

Phichit gave him an understanding look. “I knew you’d freak out, but Yuuri -- this is _huge_. You love your work and others do too. This is your chance to finally make a name and prove yourself.”

“To who? For what?” Yuuri shook his head. Cutting hair for middle-aged women and being the make-up artist for a model were two _totally_ different things. He would know. He spent hours pouring over those same fashion magazines, admiring the splash of color and vibrant tones of models’ make-up. And it was never limited to just every day cosmetics; sometimes there was the glitter of rhinestones on their cheeks or the extension of feathers on their eyelashes, and the overall effect was put together so _flawlessly_.

The boldness, the glamour… Yuuri could only dream of being able to experiment like that and find the new facets of someone’s beauty with his own hands and vision in his mind. All he ever really had to release that desire though were nights locked in the bathroom and painting his own face, or friends’ during special occasions like festivals, or helping out with the theater productions back in college. And while he loved every second of it and was proud of his end results… He just wasn’t confident if his abilities measured up to something like -- _this_.

“Oh Yuuri,” Yuuko said, “you really are wonderful with your work.”

“She’s right,” Minako agreed. She offered a smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “If anyone’s got the passion and willingness to learn more, it’s you. I say go for it, or forever regret that you hadn’t.”

Even Phichit chimed in, “Yeah! And look, I know it’s a lot to take in. But I can tell you what the photoshoot is for so you can have an idea already of what you’ll be doing. Mila’s agent is going to e-mail you about it too.” Phichit’s smile returned, and he met Yuuri’s eyes steadily. “And if anything, just remember this probably isn’t permanent. Just think of it as something to try and then brag about later, y’know?”

Bit by bit, Yuuri’s shoulders relaxed. He forced himself to repeat his friends’ words over and over in his head to nail down the last cold bits of anxiety clinging to him. He gulped.

“I-I mean… It’s Stammi Vicino,” he finally relented, an incredulous smile creeping on his lips.

Everyone released a relieved breath, nodding in encouragement. Phichit was bouncing again. “It’s SV. _Mila fuckin’ Babicheva!_ Dude, you know Viktor Nikiforov will likely be there? He’s back from his overseas event, right?”

 _Why are you asking me?_ was what Yuuri wanted to say. As if Phichit wasn’t acutely aware that Yuuri practically stalked SV’s top male model’s social media. “Y-yeah, he is. But Phichit, don’t remind me of that, I just calmed down!”

“Aha, but now you have to do it! This is like the golden opportunity for you to see him up close and personal!” Phichit laughed, quite pleased with this victory. He teasingly jabbed his elbow against Yuuri’s arm. “Shame you won’t be _his_ make-up artist, right?”

“I definitely would _not_ accept if that was the case.” Yuuri heaved a sigh, pushing his best friend at arm’s length. Be Viktor Nikiforov’s make-up artist and find 1000 ways to somehow fuck up his gorgeous face with his inadequate cosmetic skills? _As fuckin’ if_.

Now that the air had finally lightened up, they chatted away about the exciting news and what it meant. A new customer came in, and before Minako left to tend to them, she insisted that drinks _definitely_ were in order this time to celebrate. Yuuko left too to get ready for her anniversary evening, not before congratulating and hugging both boys. After that, Phichit lingered around a bit longer, but once more customers trickled into the salon, he headed off as well.

“See ya at home, Yuuri!” Phichit waved, then disappeared out the door.

And Yuuri went back to his day. It was a bit strange to work around the salon knowing that in two days he was going to be participating in a photoshoot, for _Stammi Vicino_ of all brands. Yuuri wondered what it would be like. People in the fashion industry had to be used to such liveliness and fast-paces; Yuuri fretted over if he’d be able to keep up.

In the middle of blow-drying a customer’s hair, Yuuri caught his reflection in the mirror.

Well. He’d definitely have to figure out what the hell to do with his hair now.

* * *

Just as Phichit said, Mila’s agent sent an e-mail to Yuuri later that day.

Yuuri just came back to his and Phichit’s apartment when his phone chimed. He waited until he could put his bag down and flop on his bed with a big, bracing sigh before pulling his phone out to look at the notification. It was another few seconds of simply staring at it and feeling the weight of the unexpected turn his life had taken before he actually opened it.

Mila’s agent introduced himself as Yakov Feltsman, and even via e-mail he sounded very no-nonsense, without so much as a greeting in his message. Yuuri read through the e-mail once, then twice because he might’ve just blanked out a bit, heart hammering.

_Yuuri Katsuki,_

_I am Yakov Feltsman, agent for many of Stammi Vicino’s models, including Miss Mila Babicheva. Earlier today I was approached by your friend, who insisted that you would be an excellent substitute for Mila’s absent make-up artist. Although I am unconvinced since I have yet to see your credentials, Mila was equally insistent to give you a chance._

_Contact me as soon as possible and we will set up a time tomorrow for us to meet you and get you acquainted with the studio. The photoshoot will be in two days time, so we will have to be fast-paced about this. We can talk about your pay for your services as well._

Mentally, Yuuri had been screaming the whole time he read the message. He clicked the arrow to reply, stared at the blank whiteness, scrolled to read Yakov’s e-mail again, then returned to the blank reply. How was he supposed to reply? Thanking Yakov a thousand times for the opportunity would probably be a good start.

Yuuri sat up, forcing himself to slowly inhale and exhale. He had this. It would be fine. He just had to think of this like an interview. All Yuuri had to do was be grateful and be at the top of his game -- not that he knew what that felt like, but no! Now wasn’t the time to suffocate in self-doubt! This was Stammi Vicino and he couldn’t screw this up, not after Phichit believing in him so much that he spoke out for him in the first place.

So Yuuri typed up a reply, hoping it was professional enough, and sent it before he could get all wishy-washy again.

In less than ten minutes, his phone chimed again. Yuuri was in the kitchen now, drowning some pasta in boiling water, and jumped at the sound. The front door opened as Yuuri read the new message.

“Yuuri, I’m home!” Phichit dropped his bag on the floor, along with his coat. “Oh wow, I love coming home to my husband cooking us dinner~”

“Pfft, shut up and pour in the rest of the packet in yourself if you want some too,” Yuuri said, swatting his hand to get rid of Phichit’s distraction.

“You’re too kind.” There was the rustle and splash of Phichit adding more pasta in the pot, then he leaned on the counter to try and meet Yuuri’s eyes. “What’s up?”

Putting his phone down, Yuuri gave Phichit a nervous grin. “Uh, I’ve been talking to Mila’s agent. He says he wants me to meet both of them at the studio tomorrow morning.” At least tomorrow was Sunday, which meant the salon would be closed.

Phichit beamed radiantly at him. “It’s really happening. You excited?”

“I honestly want to down a glass of wine before going.”

“Maaaybe steer clear of that until you get on their good side. Which you will!” Phichit quickly affirmed before Yuuri could have a new thing to panic over. He clapped a hand over Yuuri’s back. “You totally will because you are _the_ most likable person ever. I mean, after me, of course.”

Yuuri laughed, and the sound bubbling from his chest eased the last of his worries. He and Phichit finished making the dinner together then ate while watching stand-up comedy on Phichit’s Netflix. After they finished up, they brought their work out to the living room, with Phichit editing photos on his laptop and Yuuri pulling out magazines from his room to flip through.

All the magazines were for fashion, and admittedly Yuuri only owned them in the first place because they had spreads that featured Viktor Nikiforov. One of them even had a _gorgeous_ close-up picture of him right on the cover, gloved finger pressed against the seductive curl of his lips, as if he were requesting a kiss. His eyes were gleaming an icy shade of blue so sharp that the light could be mistaken for snowflakes in his confident gaze. Or maybe it was Photoshop. Not that Viktor _needed_ Photoshop to look anything less than stunning--

Wait, he didn’t get out this magazine to stare at Viktor’s face. _Focus, Yuuri. Big bad modeling gig_. He straightened up and started leafing through the pages until he found pictures of Mila Babicheva.

She was, of course, quite a beautiful woman -- slender yet toned, with a certain flirtatious gleam in her powder-blue eyes. Pale skin and short red hair. She pulled off elegant so flawlessly, yet even in more muted shoots, the hint of a smile was never fully gone from her lips. Bit by bit, Yuuri relaxed. Mila looked kind, and that already made him feel better about meeting her.

Yuuri spent the rest of the night studying her face and the make-up her artist had given her, memorizing what kind of tones and hairstyles suited Mila. Even when he bid Phichit goodnight and trudged back to his room, colors and cosmetic products flashed behind his eyes.

* * *

The only reason Yuuri didn’t just cling to the doorframe all morning was because Phichit finally dragged him all the way to his car, trapped Yuuri in the seatbelt himself, and then drove them to Stammi Vicino’s building. Phichit blasted music the whole time and danced as he drove to get pumped up vibes in the car. It worked to calm Yuuri’s nerves, at any rate.

“Remember,” Phitchit said as they pulled into the parking garage, “you’ve got this. Now, do you got your portfolio with you?”

“Y-yeah.” The only reason he even had one was because Phichit blessedly took so many pictures. They pulled them out and printed them that morning, and they were now sitting in the black leather case Yuuri’s dad got him for high school graduation. Well, at least it was finally getting a use. Yuuri nodded, to both himself and to Phichit. “I’ve got this.”

“I mean, hey, Mila was really enthusiastic about you. So really, you’ve already won if you ask me.”

“Why would she be enthusiastic about me?”

“Maybe you’re her type?” Phichit laughed. “She’s a bit notorious as a man-eater, isn’t she?”

Yuuri had heard about that as well when he’d gone through the interviews in the magazines, but he had a hard time believing Mila Babicheva suddenly had a thing for chubby Japanese men. He rolled his eyes and shoved at Phichit’s shoulder.

The car was parked and they made their way into the adjacent building. Phichit had already been inside, so Yuuri shadowed him closely. When they were inside, Yuuri was immediately hit with the mixed scent of expensive perfumes and colognes, strong enough to almost make him sneeze. People in pristine, fashionable clothes milled around, going about their business or simply hanging around in the lobby.

Yuuri hoped he blended in -- he didn’t really have anything impressive to wear, so he decided when in doubt, go simple. Thus he’d put on a light-blue button-down and form-fitting slacks. He thought about a tie but Phichit had slapped it out of his hand and un-tucked his shirt. He also pulled Yuuri’s hair free from the small ponytail it was in and frantically worked to style it as best as he could.

“Classy, but not stuffy. That’s the name of the game here,” he’d explained to a whirlwinded Yuuri.

They boarded the elevator, Phichit going in to press the button for the fifth floor. He straighted up, letting out a whoop since they were the only two inside. “Alright,” he said, “I’m gonna have to meet with Celestino but I can walk you to where you’ve gotta be if you want.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” Yuuri was clutching at his case, but his nerves had finally mixed into something more like anticipation. It gave him an adrenaline boost, and right now, Yuuri wanted to ride that wave and present himself as someone confident.

The elevator dinged, and Phichit smiled. “Go kick ass then, Yuuri.”

The studio floor opened up to cold, marble floors with a spill of black arches decorating it. The receptionist sat in her desk right in front of sparkling glass sign hung on the wall. In thin golden letters read the company’s name. The receptionist looked up and smiled at them with scarlet-painted lips.

“How can I help you gentlemen?”

Phichit held up an ID hanging around his neck. “I’m a photographer, Celestino’s assistant, so I’m just going to meet him in the studio. Oh, but could you tell him,” Phichit pointed to Yuuri, “where Mila Babicheva is?”

The receptionist raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised. At least it wasn’t in a condescending way, though Yuuri wouldn’t have blamed her. She turned her attention to him. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Ah, Yuuri Katsuki. I’m here to talk about being her temporary make-up artist.”

“How about that,” she said, impressed. “Guess what I heard about Georgi was true.” After typing away on her computer, she instructed Yuuri to step in front of the camera perched on the desk and took a picture. His temporary black-and-white ID automatically printed out and he stuck it on his chest. “Mila should be in her dressing room, just down that wide hall there. Come back when you’re done and we’ll have a more permanent ID ready for you.”

Yuuri thanked her and went through the glass doors to the left. Phichit already left when Yuuri was getting his picture taken, telling him to text him once he was through. That left Yuuri all alone.

He walked through the studio, past rooms of props and offices full of technical equipment. Off to one side, a row of large screens were unfurled, and Yuuri imagined the bright flashes of camera’s that must spill onto them all the time. There weren’t as many people around as in the lobby, but Yuuri knew that it would be a different story come tomorrow for the photoshoot.

He found the wide hallway of dressing rooms. With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and wore what he hoped was a cheerful, confident expression before stepping through. Doors were on either side, and the hall was cluttered with chairs and half-empty racks. Yuuri searched for any nameplates around the doors to know which one was Mila’s, but all of them were empty.

 _Oh boy_. All the doors were closed except for two -- one was wide open, but it was empty. The other was ajar, and voices were coming from inside it. An Asian man was on the other side, his eyes dark and sharp. He had his arms crossed, and he was looking away from Yuuri.

“The fit is good, much better since I tucked the seam in one-point-five centimeters on each side,” the man remarked, seemingly to himself. “Alright, remove it and I’ll get the rest of the outfits ready for tomorrow.”

A small laugh rippled out in response. “You’re so precise. But that’s why you’re such a good designer, Seung Gil,” said the other person, a male. His voice was rich and accented, but Yuuri had no idea who he was since he couldn’t see him. He found himself so curious about its owner that he overstepped in approaching the door and kicked his shoe into the magenta-painted wood.

Yuuri gasped, and both sounds alerted the men inside the dressing room. The Asian man, Seung Gil, frowned deeply at him as if offended by Yuuri’s rude announcement of his presence. But his face was obscured when the door swung open further and Yuuri’s vision was engulfed by the pristine, pale skin of someone’s bare sternum. Yuuri backed up, about to apologize and explain himself when his eyes glanced up and met clear, blue ones, as beautiful as a frozen lake under rolling winter mist.

Every single one of Yuuri’s words left him in a small, choked exhale.

Viktor Nikiforov was standing in front of him.

Viktor Nikiforov’s perfect, bow-shaped lips, glistening with clear lipgloss, were spread in a smile aimed right for Yuuri’s fragile heart. He shifted to put a hand on his hip, and Yuuri made the mistake of tracking the movement.

It wasn’t just his chest that was bare, Viktor Nikiforov was simply and _wholly nude_ right in front of Yuuri.

With a shriek, Yuuri tossed himself to the wall behind him, sputtering into the plaster, “Sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m new here, I didn’t mean-- I was trying to knock, I just-- I’m sorry!” Yuuri screwed his eyes shut, but the afterimages of Viktor’s thin fingers against the bone of his bare hip flashed behind his lids in vivid detail.

“Wow, new?” Viktor didn’t sound bothered in the slightest. In fact, amusement was clearly laced in his words. “Well then, welcome to Stammi Vicino. I’m Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Perhaps you should put clothes on before introductions.” Seung Gil’s voice was heavy with an exasperated sigh. Yuuri looked up enough to see that he had exited the room, walking away from the situation without the slightest interest in Yuuri.

Footsteps rushed on the other side of the hall, followed by a gruff, accented voice yelling, “I couldn’t agree more! Vitya, put some damn clothes on before I sell you off as a cheap X-rated actor if you want to be naked that badly! See how you fare then!”

Coming down the hall was a red-faced man, the set of his jaw and furrow of his brow suggesting he was often wearing a stern expression. Following right behind him in a hurry was Mila Babicheva.

“I don’t know, Yakov, I think I would do rather well. I got this man flustered in an instant!” On cue, heat continued to explode over Yuuri’s cheeks at Viktor’s words. He still didn’t dare to turn around, continuing to build a nice relationship with the wall instead. It was smooth, and cold, maybe he could simmer down here...

Mila shook her head, equally unamused with her fellow model’s behavior. “Viktor, don’t traumatize the poor kid. Hey, you’re Yuuri Katsuki, right?” She trotted up close to Yuuri, wearing that familiar smile that lit up her beautiful features. She grabbed his hand with a surprisingly firm grip, energetically shaking his hand up and down. “I’m Mila! This is Yakov, an agent for most of the Russian models here. Oh gosh, I’m so sorry I left you here with this weirdo, the breakfast meeting I had went on late and--”

“Mila, you’re shaking his arm off. Who is spooking him now?” Viktor appeared on Yuuri’s other side, elbow propped on the wall. A plum-colored silk robe was covering him now, hanging loosely off his shoulders. He was still wearing a smile, and really, it looked...rather flirtatious.

Which was _crazy_ , because Viktor Nikiforov would never in a _million_ years flirt with him.

Yuuri’s face was burning, but he forced himself to stand his ground. After all, he’d be seeing Viktor a lot anyway, right? So he should get used to being around the gorgeous man that up until now, Yuuri had only been admiring behind screens and magazine pages. Easier said than done, but Yuuri gulped to steel himself, and extended his other hand.

“H-hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Yuuri, huh?” Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat seeing Viktor’s lips shape his name, and hearing it roll off his tongue. Viktor took his hand, his skin soft and slightly cold. His grip was less forceful than Mila’s, and he shared a slow, lingering shake with Yuuri before letting him go. “I wonder how a certain someone will feel about that. Mila, are you hiring Mister Katsuki here to annoy that someone?”

“Mind your own business, Viktor. This cutie here is not for you.” Mila took Yuuri’s hand, dragging him away. Yakov stayed back and started what sounded like a long rant to Viktor.

Viktor waved a little in goodbye. “I’ll see you around, Yuuri.”

Yuuri could only nod in response before he was stuffed into a dressing room a few doors down.

“For future reference,” Mila said, shedding off her coat, “this is my room. The nameplates are getting re-installed later this afternoon though, so you won’t have to deal with another incident like that again.” There was light-hearted humor in Mila’s words that relaxed Yuuri. It sounded like he was right about her being a friendly person.

There was a small cream sofa in the room, and Yuuri sat on it while Mila sat cross-legged on the plush chair in front of her brightly-lit vanity. They spent the next hour getting to know each other, and Mila finally filled in the mystery of her original make-up artist.

“Georgi,” she sighed dramatically. “That man got dumped by his girlfriend recently and has been too much of a brokenhearted handful to deal with to be at work. Yakov kept hoping Georgi would come back to his senses before the shoot, but from past experiences, we all know that isn’t gonna happen. Speaking of which, you are a _godsend_. The usual fill-in is on a fashion tour overseas at the moment.”

Yuuri smiled politely. “Thank you for considering me.”

Mila smiled back. But she said, “Well, Yakov isn’t above dragging Georgi here in chains, so I hope you do good work. But your friend showed me what you can do, so I’m confident you can handle this photoshoot.” She gave him an OK sign with her hand.

Warmth bloomed in Yuuri’s chest. Mila’s reassurance went a long way, so Yuuri promised himself that he would definitely give his contribution to this shoot his all.

“Have you ever worked for a company like Stammi Vicino before?” Mila asked, swiveling her chair back and forth.

“No company is like Stammi Vicino,” Yuuri answered sincerely. “It honestly feels like a dream to even step in here.”

Mila seemed pleased with his answer. “Are you a fan?”

“If I hear SV is participating in an event, I follow the fashion tours online, and I have a lot of magazines.” Of course, he omitted that he was also specifically following a certain model, because if Yuuri thought about Viktor now, he would most definitely remember their embarrassing first meeting. “The outfits are always so imaginative and incredible, but I really like looking at the models’ faces and seeing the make-up they wear.”

“That’s fitting for you.” Mila sat back, unfurling her legs so her feet touched the floor. “I guess it’s too early to ask your first impressions, especially when little Vitya is the first thing to greet you.” She snorted into laughter.

Yuuri gave a breathless laugh, but all he could think was that Viktor’s “little Vitya” was certainly _not_ that in the slightest.

Luckily, he was saved from utter mortification when Yakov finally entered the room, and the real business talk started. Yakov asked for Yuuri’s portfolio and questioned about his cosmetic experience and where he’d worked before. On top of that were questions about what Yuuri knew about the Stammi Vicino brand. It was without a doubt the most intense interview of Yuuri’s life. But after the lapse of another hour, it looked like Yuuri had managed to scrape into Yakov’s impossible approval, and they started talking more in-depth about the shoot, what cosmetic brands disagreed with Mila’s skin, and Yuuri’s payment. Behind Yakov, Mila flashed him a smile and a thumbs-up.

After a hug from Mila, Yuuri was released. He exited the room with bated breath, feeling like if he exhaled, suddenly the new reality of his life would shatter.

But then just as he was about to exit the studio and text Phichit, Viktor appeared in the hall again, fully dressed in casual but stylish clothes this time. He smiled at Yuuri with the polite mask of professionalism Yuuri had been expecting the first time, the kind of pristine smiles all models had in front of a camera. It did wonders in making Yuuri’s heart beat heavily.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, hands in his pant pockets, “see you tomorrow.”

That was when Yuuri’s incredulity for his situation finally came to a head, and he realized this _was_ happening to him. For the first time since he stepped in Stammi Vicino’s building, Yuuri’s lips gave way to a wide, honest smile.

“See you tomorrow,” he promised breathlessly, and left the studio.

As soon as he was out of sight from the glass doors, Yuuri jumped up and down, unable to contain his firecracker bursts of excitement. He gave one loud “ _YES_!” before blushing when the receptionist gave him a bewildered look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be more viktor and viktuuri interactions eventually so Stay Tuned. i'll try to update as regularly as i can, but how often that will be is still tba. thank you for reading the first chapter!
> 
> nudge me on twitter, @fuwajellyfish


	2. all was golden in the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your support so far! Here is chapter two! I'm aiming to update once a week, so let's see how well that goes, haha, especially since I might be on the cusp of having a job *knocks on wood* ALSO you would not BELIEVE how many tabs I had open on makeup and general fashion as I wrote this. I'm not a designer by any stretch of the imagination and my sister, the artist of the family with 1000% better design sense, shook her head at my ignorance :') I do my best...
> 
> The title of this chapter comes from Panic! at the Disco's "When the Day Met the Night"

“Yuuri, you look happy. Fess up, how much have you had to drink?”

Yuuri’s big sister Mari approached him at his and Phichit’s booth at the cozy bar they stopped in for dinner. It looked like while Yuuri wasn’t looking, Phichit had texted her and Minako to invite them. Not that Yuuri was complaining, he loved his sister, even with the displeasured look she shot Phichit -- as if this was his fault for not being a good chaperone, despite the fact he was younger than Yuuri.

The smile Yuuri had been wearing for the better part of the whole day faded from his lips just slightly at the accusation. “Nothing!” he quickly defended, and shook his glass of strawberry lemonade to show off the truth of his words.

Mari took the glass and sipped from the straw. She smacked her lips, savoring the taste, then finally relented that her little brother wasn’t guzzling down pints of alcohol. Sliding into the booth with him, she declared, “This is mine now.”

“Why are you like this,” Yuuri said, making room for Mari beside him.

“Because you love me,” she said with a small smile, bumping her shoulder playfully against his. “Also you fear my wrath.”

Couldn’t argue with an older sibling’s logic.

Minako sat next to Phichit, looking displeased for the exact opposite reason. “Wait, you’re not even gonna have one cocktail in celebration for you and Phichit’s SV gig? We need to fix that.”

As Minako tried to flag down a server among the evening bustle of the bar, Mari offered a soft smile behind Yuuri’s stolen glass of lemonade. “You were telling me about that in your text, Phichit. Congrats, you two. I don’t know much about fashion, but this is pretty huge, huh? I guess that’s why you were practically glowing just now, Yuuri. Sorry for doubting you.”

Phichit grinned. “Well, Yuuri’s drunk over _Viktor Nikiforov_ , if anything.”

“Oh Yuuri, did you see him? Did you actually see him?” Minako practically leaned over the table, excitement sparkling in her eyes. It wasn’t like Viktor was her type, so she was probably interested in what happened just to see Yuuri flustered.

Yuuri tried to avoid answering by her nibbling on his mozzerella stick, but he managed a nod. Besides, it was hard to be reserved about this when he’d been fanboying with Phichit for the past three hours. He finally grinned again just thinking about it, and Minako nearly shrieked in approval.

“Wanna tell them how absolutely hung he is too?” Phichit added chattily. He was clearly taking joy in torturing Yuuri with the spotlight.

“I actually don’t. And that’s it, you’re officially demoted from best friend status, you blabbermouth.” Yuuri tossed his half-eaten stick right at Phichit’s chest, but his friend only laughed and ate it up. It was one thing to talk about the details of his first meeting with Viktor to Phichit, but _entirely_ another to bring it up with his boss and big sister present. Stupid, gossipy Phichit.

Now Minako was grinning conspiratorially. “Well it’s not like he tries hiding it, y’know. He’s kind of a peacock, even for a model. Especially in that men’s underwear ad he did two years ago...” She got starry-eyed and started to fan herself with the menu.

Of course, Yuuri knew exactly which ad she was talking about. He remembered Viktor, still glorious in grey-scale, his muscles more obvious with the shadows that dipped between them. The briefs he’d worn had been so form-fitting that they might as well have been a second skin, stretched over the curve of his ass, below the bone of his hip and around the rather prominent bulge between his thighs. Absolutely nothing had been left to the imagination.

A server came by with a tray of four cocktails that Minako had ordered for them. Without thinking, Yuuri took a big gulp in a vain attempt to cool off as soon as his glass was placed in front of him. A mistake, since the taste of gin turned to more heat in his cheeks.

“Talk about being thirsty,” Mari muttered, spooning out a strawberry slice from the lemonade. “So what didja think about finally meeting your idol?”

“I don’t think he’s really my idol since I don’t do modeling.”

Mari raised an eyebrow, shaking her straw at him. “Yeah, right. This whole obsessive thing you’ve been doing with Viktor since you were a teenager? That’s what having an idol is like.”

“Would _crush_ be more appropriate?” Phichit said, wagging his eyebrows.

Okay, Yuuri was going to need a _lot_ more to drink if he was going to be having this conversation. With the photoshoot tomorrow though, this glass would likely be his first and last. Luckily, Mari moved the conversation to Phichit and his photography, and Yuuri was safe from further interrogation.

But Yuuri’s mind still trailed off to that memory of his and Viktor’s first meeting again. It was hard to _not_ keep bringing up the image of Viktor’s lean, tight body like it was some dirty magazine under his bed, something for his eyes only -- even though as a model, Viktor had to be seen naked many times (unfortunately his more explicit parts were always meticulously covered or turned away in shoots). Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do with the image, but he certainly wasn’t going to try forgetting it any time soon.

If he got his mind off Viktor’s bare chest and butterfly hips for just a moment though, something about him seemed different than Yuuri had thought. The confidence had been there of course -- you’d have to be to answer a door _naked_ \-- and so had that playboy smile he’d given Yuuri. So what was it? Yuuri couldn’t pinpoint it. It was kind of hard to when he’d been staring at a wall for half that introduction.

Yuuri swallowed down the rest of his cocktail. God, he was just realizing how stupid he looked back then. When he stopped to think about it, models were dressing and undressing all the time. It was probably commonplace, right? Well, maybe not outside a shoot considering Yakov’s shouting, but that didn’t take away from the fact that Yuuri had litterly flung himself away from Viktor. Who did that? _Why_ did he do that? He could’ve handled that a lot more smoothly, but now that mess was forever going to be Viktor’s first impression of him.

Right now, the job he had with being Mila’s make-up artist was just for the one photoshoot. After that, Georgi would probably come back and Yuuri wouldn’t be needed anymore. Which meant...he had only tomorrow to somehow fix whatever image of himself Viktor had, and also take advantage of the fact that they would be in the same vicinity for a whole day.

Yuuri had no idea when his new mission went from surviving his first professional gig to practically stalking Viktor Nikiforov but -- he supposed he had more experience with one than the other. Which was...a very depressing and creepy thought.

“So am I allowed to smoke in here or do I have to go outside?” Mari shook her box of cigarettes at him, snapping Yuuri from his thoughts.

“Uh, this is the non-smoking section, so I’m pretty sure outside.” He stopped his sister from putting her pack away. “I can go out with you. Me and Phichit should start heading out anyway.”

Phichit, remembering the shopping trip they agreed on, nodded and said, “Oh yeah, let’s go!” He scooped up the last bit of food from his plate into his mouth and got up.

“Aw, already? The night is still young!” Minako whined behind what looked like her third cocktail. Her cheeks were stained a light pink. Yuuri doubted she was particularly inebriated since he’d seen her take down men twice her size in drinking contests, but it was still a Sunday night and the salon opened up bright and early.

And Yuuri did well to remind her of that. “What about the salon?”

“I’m the boss, I make my own hours.”

Mari stood up, tossing some bills for a tip on the table. “Come on, you can have your own bottle at the inn,” she said, referring to the small business her and Yuuri’s parents ran. That got Minako on her feet instantly, and the four of them went to the cashier to pay for their dinner before heading out into the mid-winter chill. The clouds overhead were heavy and grey, probably filled with snow to sprinkle down onto the streets once night fell.

Yuuri let the breeze cool his face and sober him up from the slight buzz making his head feel fizzy. He heard the click of Mari’s lighter go off, followed by her first drag on her cigarette. He turned just as she reached out and ruffled his hair.

“Go kick ass tomorrow, little brother. Don’t overthink it, yeah? You’ve got this.” She smiled through the smoke. The scent didn’t bother Yuuri, as he long associated it with the tender care his sister was displaying now. It was comforting to him.

Returning her smile, Yuuri nodded. “I’ll try. Thanks, sis.”

Mari moved on to pat Phichit’s head. “You do your best too. Tell me all about it after you two are done. Ah,” she looked back at Yuuri, “and call Mom and Dad. They’d love to hear about this straight from you.”

“Got it.”

“And Phichit?” Mari wrapped her arm around him, but she was staring at Yuuri. “Make sure that one doesn’t make a fool of himself in front of that model.”

Yuuri frowned. “Who, Mila?”

“The first time in hours you suddenly forget about your darling Viktor!” Phichit mocked disappointment. He returned Mari’s one-armed embrace. “He’s hopeless. You can count on me to keep an eye on him.”

“Hey Phichit, since you seemed to forget that you gave me the car keys, I’m just going to leave you here.”

“Huh? Yuuri, don’t do thaaat! We were just joking! Yuuri, come baaaack!”

* * *

With a loud jingle and buzz, Yuuri’s alarm went off.

It was useless, considering he’d already been awake for the past thirty minutes. He’d been able to sleep well for the most part, but his nerves always had a way of waking him up early on big days. So Yuuri, already in the midst of absently scrolling through Twitter, turned his alarm off as soon as the screen popped up. He took a deep breath, putting his phone down to scrub a hand over his face.

Today was the day of the photoshoot. After Phichit managed to get Yuuri to forgive him for all the teasing at the bar, they’d gone out shopping, mostly for Yuuri’s benefit -- Phichit insisted that he should invest in a more fashionable outfit. Eventually they found an outfit for him that both Phichit, and Yuuri’s wallet, approved of. 

Other than the mandatory upgrade to his wardrobe, Yuuri had also made a mental list of make-up he’d need for Mila. All the cosmetics were now neatly packed away in a simple but cute make-up kit he’d also found at the store. 

Yuuri never really put too much effort in his appearance, despite his job at the salon and his interest in cosmetics. He’d kind of just given up on making himself look attractive after feeling silly for even attempting in the first place. But today was special, and he wanted to make a good impression on the people he’d be around today. So for the next half hour after a shower, Yuuri stood in front of the mirror. 

First he traded his glasses for his contacts; smudges tended to magically end up on his lenses anyways when he dealt with make-up. He decided putting his hair in a ponytail looked okay as long as the longer ends of his bangs still framed his face. He squinted at his reflection. He really did look feminine... Well, he supposed he might as well take advantage of that.

He brought out a small container of foundation, followed by a tube of nude lipgloss and mascara. He didn’t really go all-out with make-up on himself, but today he wanted just enough to not look...well, flawed in comparison to everyone else. And he was pretty satisfied with the end result. He might even dare to think he looked...kind of pretty.

At the back of his mind, Yuuri wondered if he looked attractive enough to stand next to Viktor and talk to him.

Fat chance that was even happening, but the fantasy was enough for Yuuri.

* * *

They got dressed, shoved Poptarts in their mouth, and gathered their things into the car in record time. The drive to Stammi Vicino’s building was a fast one, with Yuuri nearly shrieking when Phichit ran several yellow lights just as they turned red -- but it was worth it. They made it inside and up to their floor with fifteen minutes to spare.

The studio was unending bustling and running around and directions being yelled out in several places. The screens on the far wall were a different color than yesterday, and all sorts of technical equipment were being brought in around them. Yuuri tried to follow what was happening, but there were so many new faces -- it was definitely a lot more lively here than yesterday.

Almost as soon as they stepped in, an older man in a low ponytail slapped a hand down on Phichit’s shoulder. “There you are!”

“Mornin’, boss!”

“ _Ciao ciao_ ~ I hope you’re ready to hit the ground running, huh?” Celestino helped Phichit with his equipment, slinging a bag over one of his broad shoulders. “Come on, photographers gotta be one of the first ones ready while the models get dressed.”

“That’s your cue,” Phichit said, turning to Yuuri. “Will you be able to find Mila’s dressing room properly this time?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Haha, yeah, funny. I’ll see you out there in a bit.” He waved to Phichit after they both wished each other good luck and then departed down to the hall of dressing rooms, dodging other busy staff going left and right across the floor. Everyone was so focused in order to make the shoot go well; Yuuri just hoped he wouldn’t screw up such a delicate balance because he couldn’t keep up.

Just as Mila said, the nameplates had been put next to the doors again, so Yuuri was able to find her room a lot easier this time. The door was ajar, but he still knocked. No use making the same mistake as yesterday.

Almost immediately, the door opened. The face Yuuri was greeted with was neither Mila or Yakov, although the scowl could’ve belonged to the latter. But this face was younger and paler, framed by long, blond hair. Yuuri had no idea who he was, but the glare in his eyes was unsettling and unforgiving.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“Uh. Hi.” Yuuri put on a smile, waving. “I’m Mila’s make-up artist. Is she in there?”

“Not very bright, are you? Can’t even read the _sign_ that says this is her dressing room?”

“That’s right, it _is_ my room!” came Mila’s shout from inside. “So I need to dress without perverted little boys being around. Can’t you get a girlfriend or something for that kind of thing?”

Yuuri glanced over the head of the boy to see Mila being buttoned up into a black winter dress. Sheer black stockings and long heeled boots shimmering with silver rhinestones at the top were already around her legs. The person tending to her was Seung Gil from yesterday.

The boy’s cheeks grew a dark pink as he very pointedly did _not_ turn around. “Don’t flatter yourself! I was just leaving now anyway!” He shoved past Yuuri and made his way down the hall. For a few seconds, Yuuri stared after him, wondering what a teenager was doing around here. He certainly didn’t look like a member of the staff, and actually stuck out like a sore thumb with his casual clothes of weird animal print and the hoodie pulled sullenly over his head.

Seung Gil left soon after. Just like yesterday, he didn’t look at Yuuri, walking past him like he wasn’t even there. Yuuri was starting to think Mila might be the minority when it came to friendly dispositions.

“Uh, was that a friend?” he asked, referring to the teenager.

“I think of him more as a little brother. He’s adorable, right? Well, you’ll have another chance to talk to him, I’m sure.” Mila sat herself on the chair in front of her vanity, smiling. “I know you just arrived, but are you ready? My hairdresser already came by, so we just need you to put the cherry on top~”

Nodding, Yuuri quickly set his kit down on the vanity’s counter, already littered with hair products and accessories. He added to the clutter as he pulled out brushes and blenders, tubes and containers. He hoped that everything he brought would work for Mila, but there was no way to know until he started working.

“By the way, Yuuri,” Mila said, easily relaxing as he gently held her face, “you look even cuter today.” The corners of her lips turned up in a coquettish smile.

“Oh, thanks.” Yuuri smiled.

“And you have the prettiest eyelashes ever! You know, sometimes Georgi would put on make-up too, but it was a bit,” Mila’s eyes widened as her memory played, “over the top. Pfft, but you can get a kick out of it yourself when you see him.”

Coordinating for black wouldn’t be hard, but Yuuri decided that he still wanted to bring out Mila’s eyes. With winter fashion, he thought an ice-blue hue would work really well. The same blue as Viktor’s eyes. It wouldn’t clash with Mila’s other outfits in the shoot either.

Yuuri rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “You, uh, keep saying I’ll meet people. But this is the only job I’m signed up for.”

“Ah, I guess that is true.” Mila’s smile sobered up -- but only for a second. “Well, you might catch someone else’s attention here, so who knows, _da_?”

Yuuri’s first instinct was to doubt the statement. It wasn’t like he aimed for anything beyond this gig in the first place. But he realized he was _standing here_ anyway, and shrugged. “Well, just a few days ago I was having a normal day at my friend’s salon, and now I’m standing in Stammi Vicino’s building, working on a model like you, so…” Even if it was just this gig that he did in the end, he wouldn’t consider it wasted time at all.

Mila chatted away with Yuuri as he worked. She had endless stories and topics of conversation, and one tangent would always lead to another. In that respect, she kind of reminded him of Phichit. No wonder he liked her so much.

In another few minutes, the door was knocked on by a staff member asking if Mila was ready. Yuuri was done by then, and he stared nervously at his feet while Mila examined herself in the mirror. She was grinning. As she made her way out the door, she bumped her hip against him.

“Have faith in yourself! This is lovely work~” She grabbed his arm. “Come on, you can come watch!”

And just like that, Yuuri was dragged back into the whirlwind of activity on the photoshoot floor. Mila held onto him the whole time, acting as his guide all the way to the screen she was being motioned to. She greeted the photographers, and Yakov was there as well, asking her impatiently if she knew where Yuuri was. To which he started to tentatively raise a hand in answer, but Mila only shrugged. Yuuri lowered his hand -- maybe someone around here had the same name as him?

His confusion was halted as soon as Mila stepped in front of the winter-grey screen behind her. With the first flashes from the studio strobes spilled brilliantly over her body, the shoot commenced.

Yuuri knew that this shoot was for Stammi Vicino’s mid-winter catalogue. He also knew that Mila was going to be on the cover of that catalogue, but Yuuri was doing his best _not_ to think about it, because then he’d feel the pressure break his carefully-constructed calm.

As Mila’s pictures were taken, Yuuri let his mind wander. He wondered where Phichit was if the other photographer was right here with Mila. He looked around the studio, and saw another shoot taking place two screens down. Sure enough, Phichit was there with Celestino. Yuuri smiled when he saw that Phichit had been given the responsibility of actually taking the photos and directing the model. Yuuri looked over at the screen and his breath caught in his chest.

The model posing in front of Phichit’s camera was Viktor.

He was wearing a black outfit just like Mila, a double-breasted coat with silver buttons wrapped snugly around his body, so that even under the layers, there was the tempting slope of his waist. Heeled knee-high boots were crossed at the ankles as Viktor posed, making his legs look even longer and elegant. The buckled straps on the boots and cuffs of the coat gave the outfit an interesting flair, and all the dark colors made the paleness of Viktor’s face and hair stand out all the more.

Simply put, Viktor was striking. _Beautiful_. Yuuri’s heart stuttered repeatedly as he drank the sight in, transfixed. And with each pose and shift of his body, the cocky tilt of his head or hip, Yuuri had to take the sight in all over. Viktor posed so naturally, already seeming to know what Phichit wanted before he even finished his direction. Although Yuuri couldn’t clearly see his eyes, his expression was full of intense allure and focus.

Staring at his face, Yuuri thought about brushing some rouge to Viktor’s high cheekbones, a hint of dark-pink lip stain…

“Alright, Mila, take ten for your outfit change. Is Sara already here for her turn?”

Yuuri’s attention broke, and he quickly turned back to Mila, hoping no one saw him zone out. Luckily, everyone had been too busy to notice, and Yuuri too was thrust back into the thick of things, unable to spare another thought for Viktor Nikiforov.

There were two other outfit changes after that, and Yuuri found himself having a lot of fun, exhilaration filling his head at being a part of the fast-paced buzz. But then it was time for Mila to get in her last outfit, the one she’d be wearing for the cover. It was dominated in white and shimmered endlessly in the light, a stark contrast to her first dress. A warmly knit scarf with lace trimming hung around her neck, white gloves over her hands. The hairdresser pinned most of her hair back, leaving just a few stray curls to frame her face.

Yuuri’s heart was pounding. He already had a look in mind after Yakov had first shown him pictures of the outfit, but he wondered if it was really a _cover-worthy_ look.

Mila sat on her chair with a smile, somehow still energetic. “Alright, Yuuri. Work your magic one last time~” She gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Yuuri held onto the adrenaline flowing through his veins and got out a new array of makeup.

Mila had a beautiful face, and she looked like a real-life Snow White in all the pure, frosty color she was dressed in. Yuuri held onto that image, and his hands moved on autopilot. He brushed light blush on her cheeks, blending them ever-so-slightly in white, as if she’d been kissed by snow. The previous night, he stayed up to paint some false eyelashes white to give that same effect of fallen snow delicately on Mila's features. Around her eyes, he also added an extra shimmer, and for her lips he painted them a light red. 

As he worked, he zoned out, lost in completing the vision in his head. He might’ve heard the door open, but he ignored it. He added just a dash of body glitter to her cheeks, giving her face the same reflective shine as snow catching the sunlight.

“Okay, I’m done.”

Mila stood up to look into the mirror. The smile on her face froze, then waned. Her eyes widened as she leaned into her reflection, a hand coming up like she wanted to touch her face and make sure this was really herself she was seeing.

“Yuuri…” She said something to herself in Russian. Then, “Yuuri, oh my god. This is… I’m so… I wasn’t expecting this at all.”

His heart clenched. “Is it bad?”

“ _Nyet_ !” Mila’s taut emotion finally exploded into bliss. “This is _gorgeous,_ Yuuri! I feel like a snow princess, you know? Oh, I could kiss you, but I don’t want to ruin this. Gosh, even Georgi probably couldn’t come up with this.”

Yuuri’s cheeks felt warm at the praise, but for once, it wasn’t from embarrassment. “I’m glad you--” He stopped, seeing another’s reflection in the corner of the mirror. He turned, and saw that Viktor was standing there in the open doorway, his hand gently touching the magenta wood.

How long had he been there, looking like he’d frozen completely? He appeared to be in a trance, his lips slightly parted. A dreamy kind of haze veiled his eyes as he stared into the room, giving his whole expression a rather soft appearance like someone who had found something they hadn’t realized they’d been looking for. Yuuri had never seen such a look on his face, but he wished Viktor would find a reason to pull it out on a photoshoot -- he looked so... _vulnerable_.

“Hi,” Yuuri breathed, because it was the only thing he could get out.

Viktor’s gaze locked onto Yuuri. “Hello,” he said, sounding equally distant.

“Viktor!” Mila whirled around, her voice breaking whatever tension had been in the air. “Look here what Yuuri did! Isn’t he fantastic? I mean, I always knew that I was pretty, but I downright feel like some princess right now!”

“I know, I was watching a little bit.” Viktor dazzled them (or at least Yuuri) with his smile, and the warmth of it reached his eyes. “That’s some beautiful work, Yuuri. I’m almost jealous of Mila for getting to be in your hands.”

 _Now_ Yuuri was embarrassed. The shock nearly had him break the tube of mascara in his hands.

Mila laughed, striking a pose. “Eat your heart out, Viktor. Ah! I should get back so we can start taking pictures.”

Viktor blinked, as if just remembering something. “Oh right. That’s what I came in here for, to say they’re wondering when you’re finishing up.” He shot a look at Yuuri, his pinned-back bangs giving the full intensity of those piercing blue eyes. “Forgive me, I just didn’t want to break your focus.”

“Perfection takes time,” Mila agreed. She walked out the door, booping Viktor on the nose on the way.

By this time, Yuuri was used to trailing after Mila. Viktor still hadn’t moved from the doorway, and Yuuri brushed shoulders with him, trying and failing not to stare at him the whole while.

Seamlessly, Viktor fell into step with him. “How do you like it?” he asked conversationally.

“A lot,” Yuuri blurted without thinking. He just assumed Viktor was talking about his face considering he wouldn’t look away from him. But why had he answered with such unrestrained honesty? He was getting dizzy just from being beside him, it was affecting his head.

Viktor nodded, understanding. “I’d think so. Lots of people consider themselves lucky to work with a brand like Stammi Vicino, and word is that you’re a fan.” Viktor gave him a blissful heart-shaped smile. “I hope that means you’ve paid _me_ lots and lots of attention too~”

For a second, Yuuri had no idea what he meant. But then he realized Viktor had been asking how Yuuri liked _working here_. Well. It wasn’t like Yuuri’s answer changed all that much either way, but he supposed he could’ve been more eloquent rather than sounding like he’d been in a daze. Although if he dared to respond to Viktor’s last comment, he’d definitely end up an unintelligible mess.

“I’m a fan,” he agreed neutrally.

“Hmm, _Yuuri Katsuki_ ,” Viktor experimented with how the name sounded to him. He tapped a gloved finger on his chin, humming. “I keep wondering if I’ve heard your name anywhere else. Who do you do work for? Other models? Celebrities?”

“Wh-whoa, whoa, you’re giving me too much credit!” Yuuri waved his hands in a gesture that begged Viktor to stop. “Mila didn’t tell you? I just work at a small beauty salon over on the east side of town. This is the first time I’ve done a job like this.”

Viktor widened his eyes, stopping in his tracks. “What, _really_ ? I never would have guessed! You do such good work, and your ideas are beautiful. Simple,” he admitted, “but very effective in enhancing your model’s beauty. I would _love_ to see what else you’ve done.” At the last part, his voice lowered, but the deep timbre still reached Yuuri under the noise of the studio.

Suddenly, Viktor reached a hand out, brushing back Yuuri’s bangs to show more of his face. In the dim light, his expression held a certain intensity that nailed Yuuri’s feet to the floor and held his lungs. The praise and the gesture should’ve overwhelmed him, yet Yuuri’s head was quiet and floaty.

Was this real? Was Viktor Nikiforov actually saying such approving things about his work, like he _admired_ it? And he didn’t sound insincere in the least, or like he said it just to be polite; even in interviews, Viktor said nothing less than what was simply on his mind.

Which meant...he’d genuinely captured Viktor’s attention.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t get his tongue untied in time to thank Viktor before Celestino called him over for the last part of his shoot. Viktor immediately put on an energetic smile like he hadn’t been so seriously weaving his fingers in Yuuri’s hair. With that same hand, he waved to Yuuri and parted way with him. Yuuri’s gaze trailed after him, only dimly aware of the chatter and flashes of camera light around him.

Captivating and stunning, Viktor used his body to showcase not just the outfit, but himself -- and Yuuri was certain that no one else on earth could hope to pull off the ensemble like Viktor could, model or not. Viktor just brought something so immersive in his modeling that looked like he belonged in front of the camera, like he instinctively already knew what angles and poses would translate his beauty the best while still not taking away from the theme of his shoots.

He was a walking masterpiece.

And like always, Yuuri couldn’t look away.

* * *

The shoot ended about half an hour later.

Yuuri accompanied Mila back to her dressing room one last time. He packed up his materials, but left one thing out. As soon as he turned to Mila the wet wipes, she shook her head.

“Don’t you dare, Yuuri. I plan to keep this make-up on the rest of the day.” She said it with a decisive nod.

“Are you sure?” Was this a normal things models did? Yuuri did kind of think it a waste himself to get rid of the make-up right after the shoot was done, but he didn’t think it meant Mila would want to keep _his_ work on her face.

Mila smiled. “Are you kidding? Of course I am! I’m not allowed to post any pictures I take with the new clothes, and I’ve been _dying_ to do some selfies with this look.” When she had stripped down to her first layer of the white dress, she shooed him out out the door so she could finish undressing.

Since Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was allowed to leave yet, he lingered around. The studio was busy with staff putting equipment away or just loitering around chatting, so Yuuri stayed near the dressing rooms. There were chairs and cushioned benches against the walls, and he plopped himself down on one and pulled out his phone.

He hadn’t checked it this whole time, but he was unsurprised to find texts from Phichit. Of course he would still manage to find an opportunity to be on his phone even on a job.

 

 **From: Phichit**  
_dude guess who gets to take pics of your man~~~ bet u wish u were a photographer now B))_

 

Looked like Phichit sent that back when the shoot first started. Yuuri smiled to himself as he typed out a reply. He certainly had something to top his friend’s message.

 

_> He complimented my work tho and said it was beautiful. Bet you wish u were a makeup artist now :) _

 

The reply came instantly.

 

 **From: Phichit  
** _!!!! DEETS LATER DO U HEAR ME BOY!!!_ A string of eyes and sparkle emojis followed, and it got Yuuri to laugh. Despite all the teasing from last night, Yuuri couldn’t wait to give him the latest update with Viktor.

“Ohh~? Who are you laughing with?” Someone sat down next to Yuuri on the bench, their cologne surrounding Yuuri in a fresh wave. Giving him a bright smile was Viktor, back in his every day clothes and his bangs back to covering one of his eyes.

When Yuuri didn’t answer, Viktor tilted his head to try and look at the screen. “It’s a _lover_ , I bet. Only lovers get laughs like that.”

Yuuri froze, nearly dropping his phone, but he quickly managed to shove it into his pocket. “No! No, it’s not that at all, just my friend…” Somehow, even though what he was saying was true, it sounded like a lame excuse.

Just as he thought, Viktor didn’t seem to buy it. “Okay, if you say so.” Viktor made himself comfortable on the bench, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles of his damn designer boots. Obviously he meant to camp out here with Yuuri with no intention of leaving.

With no phone to distract his eyes or hands anymore, Yuuri struggled to say something. He didn’t want Viktor to think he was boring on top of being the weirdo that hugged walls. His mission was to make a better impression to erase that image after all.

“Are you waiting for Mila too?” he finally asked.

“Kind of,” was all Viktor said without elaborating. “And you are?”

“I haven’t been dismissed yet. Or, uh, paid. So I’m just sticking around to see if there’s anything else I’m needed for.”

“Paid, huh. You mean with this?” Viktor pulled a standard envelope from his coat pocket, holding it out to Yuuri between his index and middle finger. Written right on top of it in dark-green Sharpie was Yuuri’s name. “I persuaded Yakov that I could give it to you, as he’s busy with a teenager’s temper tantrum right now.”

Yuuri took the offered envelope and opened it. Sure enough, inside was a check written out for him in payment for his services. “Thank you,” he said, grateful that Viktor went out of his way to deliver it to him. “Seems like you double as a messenger.”

“Just for today,” Viktor said lightly, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “So what are your after-shoot plans, Yuuri? Have you eaten yet?”

“Ah… No, not yet.”

Without missing a beat, Viktor leaned toward him. “Well, why don’t you join me for lunch?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with the brilliance of his idea.

The urge for Yuuri to make sure he hadn’t accidentally left his earbuds on was strong, as was his habit since he listened to music so often. Because really that was the only explanation -- there was no way in hell that he just heard Viktor right. Was he hallucinating a random fantasy just from sitting next to Viktor and inhaling the strong spice of his cologne?

He pinched the skin between his finger and thumb.

It fucking _hurt_.

Which meant he _wasn’t_ hearing things. Viktor Nikiforov had indeed just invited him to lunch.

Yuuri’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly grabbed it just to have something to do as he frantically stalled to answer Viktor.

 

 **From: Phichit  
** _btw ciao ciao is ordering in for lunch for the photographers since we gotta get these pics edited asap for the catalogue makers. will u be ok?_

 

“Yuuri?”

“Um…” Maybe this was fate’s way of saying for him to take a chance for once in his damn life -- even though this was the biggest chance ever. With his celebrity crush, no less. That was what made it so daunting. Yuuri put his phone down and looked at Viktor, who stared at him expectantly. His heart hammered. “You mean...just you?”

“Huh? Oh.” Viktor blinked, suddenly understanding Yuuri’s reservations. He pressed his lips together, laughing somewhat awkwardly. “No, Mila will be going too. Actually, Yakov probably will too, and he’ll bring the brat with him since we’re all probably going to escort him to afterschool classes afterward… Aha, I’m making this sound more unappealing by the second, aren’t I?”

It certainly wasn’t the elaboration Yuuri had been expecting, it was true. It made Viktor sound like he was about to go on a rowdy outing with his family. Yuuri found himself echoing Viktor’s laugh.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he finally said. He felt exhausted just from being immersed in the studio’s energy all morning and what he _really_ wanted was a nap. Besides, he didn’t want to intrude upon others’ plans.

Meanwhile, part of his mind _screamed_ at him for being a coward, because _when in the hell was Viktor going to give him an invitation like this again?_

For that matter, when would he ever see _Viktor_ again?

Mila exited her dressing room, casual clothes on and bag slung over her shoulder. “Oh, you’re already here, Viktor.”

The complicated expression on Viktor’s face from Yuuri’s answer lifted as he got up from the bench. “ _Da_. Ready to head out? Yakov said he’ll meet us at the restaurant.”

“Sure, let’s go. Oh, Yuuri! Do you want to come out to eat with us? Yakov can pay you then too.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Um, Viktor already gave me the payment... And invited me to go with you guys. But, um… I said I was fine.” Again, his mind lost its patience with him, mentally beating him to a bloody pulp.

Mila looked disappointed. “You’re sure? But we won’t see each other after this…”

Viktor frowned. “What do you mean? Yuuri, you’re leaving SV already?”

“Well, he was just filling in in the first place,” Mila informed him. “I really liked you though, Yuuri. Do you mind if we keep your contact information, just in case we need you again?”

Both models looked very insistent that he agree, and Yuuri slowly nodded his head. “Th-that’s fine. I mean, please consider me again, yes!”

Viktor and Mila’s shoulders relaxed at his answer. Were models always so hard-pressed for make-up artists? Well, after that, Mila gave him a tight hug and wished him good luck at the salon. Viktor stood off to the side, looking like he wanted to say something, but in the end he only gave a polite smile before taking off with Mila.

Yuuri’s head urged him to say something, his tongue pushing against the back of his teeth. Finally, he shot up from his seat.

“W-wai-- Um, V-Viktor--” He stumbled down the hallway until he was a few feet from them. Viktor turned around in question to Yuuri.

“Forget something?”

“That’s… I, uh…” Oh god, why did he call out to him? He had nothing to say! Well no, he had lots to say, but none that he could just blurt out! Even so, he couldn’t accept Viktor just walking away with Yuuri having little chance of crossing paths with him again unless Georgi had another break-up or something.

Viktor waited for him to answer. But he seemed to connect his own dots, and he offered a wide grin. “Oh, you said you were a fan, right? Could it be you want a commemorative photo?” Without waiting for Yuuri to reply, he nodded his head, mind made up. “That’s fine with me! Let’s take a selfie~”

Dumbfounded, Yuuri could do nothing else but go along with Viktor’s suggestion. He scrambled for his phone, and Viktor came close to him. He wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, pulling them flush together, and Yuuri’s heart exploded in fireworks. His hand was shaking as he held out his phone, and his smile was equally evident of his nerves.

“Hey now, hold it steady,” Viktor laughed. His hand brushed against Yuuri’s, helping him hold the phone. Viktor leaned in, pressing their cheeks together, his scent surrounding Yuuri. Yuuri wondered if Viktor could feel the heat of his blush as he took a selfie, their hands touching.

When Yuuri examined it in his gallery, he could’ve died -- because the picture was...actually cute. Almost _couple-cute_. Even though nerves still shone in his eyes and you got the full view of his round face from Viktor pushing his bangs back earlier -- Viktor was pretty enough for both of them, even though Yuuri thought the difference in their attractiveness obvious. Nonetheless, he already knew he was going to make it his new wallpaper.

Mila demanded selfies with Yuuri too, and it ended up with the three of them standing in the hallway taking all manner of group photos as they switched between phones. Only after Mila and Viktor had their fill -- they were on par with Phichit when it came to being selfie monsters -- did they finally let Yuuri go. But not before Viktor squeezed him so tight that Yuuri could swear his heart had just abandoned him to hide in Viktor’s breastpocket.

After that, Yuuri was left with a weird floaty feeling for the rest of the day. When he ate lunch by himself at the cafe across the street, he idly checked Instagram, and saw that Viktor had posted one of the group selfies. Right in the middle was Viktor, one hand out to hold his phone, the other around Yuuri’s shoulder.

 

 **v-nikiforov** _Another successful #photoshoot! #StammiVicino #FeelingFine #OnPoint_

 

Yuuri smiled to himself and liked and saved the picture. He also followed Mila’s Instagram since Viktor had tagged her. She had posted one of the selfies of just her and Yuuri, thanking him for his hard work followed by a string of fashion emojis.

In the end, Yuuri felt like he just had the best day of his life.

* * *

A week passed in relative peace. Yuuri went back to working at Minako’s salon, they got a new employee named Minami that was _very_ eager to learn from Yuuri and follow him like a baby chick, Phichit went on excited tirades about his gigs via social media; and every so often, when no one was around, Yuuri looked at the selfies of himself and Viktor and Mila. They were the only proof that those two days in Stammi Vicino weren’t a dream.

But then Yuuri’s phone rang. Soon after when he didn’t pick it up, it chimed with a text message. He couldn’t check until he was done trimming his client’s hair, but afterwards he glanced at the missed call and message from the same unknown number. How odd. Yuuri opened the text up.

 

 **From: Unknown Number**  
_Yuuriiiiii!! I have a request for you! Come back to SV building at your earliest convenience!_

 

Yuuri frowned at the straightforward message and replied uncertainly, _Mila?_

 

 **From: Unknown Number**  
_Silly Yuuri :D  
__It’s Viktor Nikiforov! I stole your number from Yakov_ ~

 

As if to prove it wasn’t a hoax, a picture was sent under the messages. It was Viktor posing with a peace sign in front of a mirror; probably in his dressing room by the looks of it. Yuuri had never seen the picture before, and he prided himself in being a collector of all of Viktor’s public photos. Which meant…

Apparently impatient with Yuuri’s lack of response, Viktor sent him another message.

 

 **From: Unknown Number  
** _Now hurry to SV and come see me right away ok??? xoxoxo_

 

And that was the beginning of the end to Yuuri’s peaceful week. And peaceful life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised more Viktuuri interactions but I wonder if this was enough, lol. I hope it's enjoyable to read about Yuuri's relationships with others as well. He's more well-liked than he thinks, so a lot of people try to flock to him~ At the very least, you'll see I put the "slow" in "slow burn" //deca y s
> 
> As always, feel free to follow me on twitter @fuwajellyfish to find out the deets of what I'm working on! Or just flail about ice gays together lol.


	3. a magic only two can tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, thanks for your continued support and patience! it took me a few extra days to update because i did indeed get a job! yayy~ so i'll be busier but i'll still do my damnest to update as close to weekly as possible. please bear with me if i ever fall short of updating in a timely manner :') 
> 
> chapter title is from "carry on dancing" by savage garden

After over an hour of agonizing, Yuuri had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t just drop everything just because Viktor Nikiforov summoned him with a bunch of X’s and O’s.

No matter how curious he was to know what Viktor wanted with him.

No matter how his heart soared straight out his chest because he had just received a personal text from his long-time idol.

He had to be rational. He was at work so he couldn’t just leave. So he replied to Viktor postponing a meetup until he wasn’t busy. It had been the most difficult message Yuuri had ever sent, and he’d sent texts under _bad_ , stressful situations before.

But as expected, Phichit was beyond incredulous with his decision, and he made it clear as soon as Yuuri got home.

“Yuuri,” Phichit put his palms together in an extreme show of patience, “are you _insane_? You know Minako would let you out if you told her!” Yuuri half-expected him to reach for his tripod and whack him with it.

“I couldn’t do it. I needed time to prepare myself, and I just got a text out of nowhere, from _him_!” Yuuri’s words dashed out in a rush, leaving him as breathless as if he’d run a marathon. “I panicked!” Viktor’s messages were heavy weights in his pocket and in his hand -- not that it stopped Yuuri from having re-read them at least a dozen times.

And also saving that selfie.

Phichit wasn’t having it. “You should’ve texted me, your dear voice of reason!”

“Well, it’s too late, I already replied. So that’s that.” Yuuri hadn’t thought about yet when exactly he’d agree to go back to Stammi Vicino to see Viktor, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Phichit guessed where his anxiety lied, and reached out to pat his shoulder. “Give it a try next time, man. See him tomorrow. They probably want you back for another job. And if _Viktor_ is the one contacting you...” That familiar, mischievous sparkle returned to Phichit’s eyes.

“That is not what’s happening,” Yuuri quickly said, if only to keep his brain from short-circuiting.

“Your track record for being right about things is pretty abysmal. Just putting that out there.”

* * *

The next day, after teaching Minami how to apply mascara without poking someone’s eye out, Yuuri’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

 

 **From: Unknown Number** **  
** _Yuuri! How about today? can i see you?_

 

Yuuri held his breath, quickly replying before he could overthink things again. _Sorry I’m still busy today_. At least two other apologies initially followed it, but he decided to delete them and not sound like some meek broken record.

 

 **From: Unknown Number**  
_Ah i see! Yuuri is a very hard worker_ _  
_ _Then just come by when you can!! xoxo_

 

Right after that message was another selfie of Viktor. Did he always text people photos of himself? Well, he _was_ a beautiful man, and an A-list model at that; he could afford to show off his looks.

This time he looked to be at the front seat of a car. He was wearing designer sunglasses, hung low over his nose so that his eyes were visible when he looked up at the camera. A streak of winter daylight beamed right over those eyes, giving the effect of sunrays dancing on clear, blue water. It was almost infuriating how even nature cooperated to make Viktor even more beautiful, as if the heavens were fawning over him on top of the mere mortals like Yuuri that gazed at him from afar.

Except Yuuri was a _special_ mortal. One that got personalized selfies of Viktor texted straight to him.

 _don’t take selfies if you’re driving_ , was all he eventually said (after saving the picture anyway, of course). God, he sounded like a mother hen. Very attractive, Yuuri.

 

 **From: Unknown Number** **  
** _You mean like this?_  
_[attached photo]_  
_Or thiiiiis?_ _  
_ [attached photo]

 

Yuuri tried to bite down a smile, but it didn’t work. He laughed at Viktor’s silliness, of the attached selfies with him posing near the steering wheel.

 

 **From: Unknown Number**  
_buuut if you really want to stop me_ _  
_ _you should come to SV <3 _

 

It sounded like a challenge, and it made Yuuri’s smile freeze. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to tango with Viktor just yet. Nonetheless, the tone of the message and that damn heart buzzed in Yuuri’s head for the rest of the day, his mind coming up with feverish thoughts on just how some more confident version of himself could gain the upper hand on Viktor.

(One of them involved Viktor being the one against the wall instead. Yuuri couldn’t cool the blush stinging his cheeks all day.)

* * *

As it turned out -- and as was probably appropriate -- Viktor Nikiforov was an impatient diva of a man. Behind his mature features and professional facade was someone very much used to being answered to right away and getting what he wanted.

Two days later, Yuuri learned that when his phone rang.

Phichit had been attacking Yuuri with calls and texts in order to persuade him to meet up with Viktor, never letting up until Yuuri promised he’d think about it again. It didn’t help that Phichit was in the middle of setting up for another photoshoot in Stammi Vicino, and he threatened that he wasn’t above dragging Viktor to Yuuri’s front door himself if he didn’t answer Viktor’s summon.

So it was with a sigh that Yuuri pulled out his phone. Minami was sweeping right beside him, and gushed about how _popular_ Yuuri was for his phone to always go off, and of course why _wouldn’t_ he be and also--

“You can’t keep contacting me at work,” he said flatly into the receiver, ending another one of Minami’s passionate rants with a patient smile.

“ _Well, I suppose I wouldn’t have to if you would just tell me when you can see me_ ,” came an offended, Russian-accented voice that was definitely _not_ Phichit.

Yuuri was not proud of the alarmed whimpering noise he made when he pulled his phone back to see “Unknown Number” printed on the screen.

“Yuuri, are you okay? Is someone harrassing you?” Minami slid even closer to him, eyes alight with determination to protect Yuuri from the mysterious caller.

“I-It’s fine, don’t worry.” Yuuri turned around and took a few paces away before he brought his phone back to his ear. He lowered his voice. “Oh my god. I’m sorry, I thought one of my friends was calling, he’s been doing it a lot lately, so I just assumed.”

“ _Oh, is this the same ‘friend’ that you were texting last time?_ ” Viktor’s tone shifted to something playful. Yuuri’s face grew red as he dashed to Minako’s back office, telling Minami over his shoulder to cover for him. A conversation with Viktor Nikiforov was definitely one he wanted away from everyone else.

“Why are you calling?” Yuuri asked after closing the door behind him.

“ _Hmm? Did I not just say I’m wondering when you’ll meet with me? I’m starting to think that you’re evading me, Yuuri. It’s not very professional,_ ” Viktor accused, but he at least didn’t sound angry about it. There was some quiet rush of white noise in the background. Viktor’s voice sounded a bit odd too. Was he driving again?

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about that, I’ve just been busy at work. Not that I’m saying you’re not busy! You’re probably _way_ busier than me, I just…” Yuuri forced his mouth closed for a beat to shut himself up. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you waiting.”

Viktor didn’t seem to mind his babbling. “ _Not as busy as you think. I’m free for the next few hours, actually.”_ He gasped, inspired. _“I know! Tell me where you work, and I will head over there right away! You said the east side of town, right?_ ” There was an immediate screeching sound on Viktor’s end, followed by a muffled honk and Viktor’s carefree laugh.

“Wha-- Oh my god, are you _okay_!?”

“ _Worry not~! I just made a sudden U-turn to the east side. I guess someone didn’t appreciate that_.”

Yuuri made the very firm and surprising conclusion that Viktor Nikiforov should not be allowed to drive. At all.

Feeling exhausted from the rather crazy conversation, he sank down in Minako’s plush leather chair. And for a moment, he entertained Viktor’s proposal of coming to the salon. Yuuri imagined Viktor bursting inside, expensively fashionable and handsome and _dazzling_ , and the sheer commotion that would cause. Fashion magazines littered the tables and counters everywhere, so there were many customers that would be very familiar with Viktor’s face.

“Um, you really don’t have to go out of your way to come here...”

“ _It wouldn’t be an inconvenience if that’s what you’re worried about. I said I’m free, and I’d honestly love to see you, Yuuri_.”

Oh. Oh _dammit_ . Yuuri just made that whimpering noise _again_ . At least this time he had the forethought to hold his phone at arms-length. _Me. He wants to come see me. I don’t even know why_. God, who cared? He was definitely going to be re-playing that sentence in his head for the next few weeks.

Yuuri squirmed in his seat. “You don’t want to just talk about this on the phone, while we’re both here now?” He’d have a much better time talking to Viktor anyway without being able to look at his face and get, well, distracted by it. Plus he’d spare the salon from getting rowdy all of a sudden; they’d get nothing done with Viktor getting mobbed.

But Viktor was having none of it, oblivious to those worries. “ _It’s too important to just say over the phone. That’s why I want to see you in person. So text me the address and I’ll go to you right away_ ~”

“How about I go to meet you at SV?” Yuuri said in a desperate last-ditch effort. “I can leave right now.”

There was a pause, nothing but the rush of traffic in the background. Finally, Viktor replied carefully, “ _I’ll tell you when I’m over there, Yuuri_.” With that, he hung up.

Somehow, Yuuri wasn’t relieved. He stared at the black screen of his phone, wondering if he’d made Viktor mad. He certainly hadn’t sounded as excited as before when he hung up. Was it Yuuri’s fault? Should he have let Viktor come over after all? What if this mood carried over into their meeting -- or worse, Viktor decided he didn’t want to see Yuuri after all? If this was another job offer, would Viktor be turned off by his unprofessional behavior and call it all off? It was almost enough for Yuuri to not want to go see him at all.

At times like this, it was best to text Phichit. His friend would be overjoyed to know he finally agreed to meet with Viktor, at any rate.

 

_> Help me i might be a goddamn idiot _

 

Yuuri sent the text and sighed. When Phichit didn’t reply with his usual speed, Yuuri figured he must be busy working.

Right. Work. Yuuri got up and returned to the salon, getting back on track and evading Minami’s questions about the call.

Minami was a fun guy, albeit with a surplus of energy that never seemed to fade. Despite that, Yuuri genuinely enjoyed talking with him and laughed at the stories he told their customers as they worked with them. As the next half hour passed, Yuuri allowed himself to listen in and try to keep up with Minami’s excitable chatter -- it only made him talk faster and louder when he realized Yuuri was paying attention to him.

“Ahh, Minami, you’re getting so good at applying eyeshadow~ It’s so pretty~”

“Heehee, I have the best teacher, that’s why! Yuuri, Yuuri, did you hear? I was praised!”

“I heard. Good job, Minami.” Yuuri smiled at him, and Minami gave a victory dance, proclaiming he was going to keep trying hard. The chimes at the front door jingled, and Yuuri called over to Minako that he was almost done, so he’d get to the new customer in just a sec.

“Do you do color treatment? Your red streak in your hair is so cool, Minami! So I’m thinking of getting one too. Hey, Yuuri should as well, right?” The customer, a college-aged women, grinned at the two of them.

Yuuri shook his head, finishing up his own customer with one last dab of blush on her cheeks. “Oh, no way, I don’t think that’d suit me at all.”

Minami’s eyes grew sparkly. “No, Yuuri, you _should_ ! You’d look sooo cool! What’s your favorite color? I think you’d look amazing in _any_ color, but I want to know what you like the most!”

“Oh, I don’t know… Blue?” Yuuri said with a small laugh, deciding to entertain Minami. His customer had left to pay, and the new one was already sliding into the chair right in front of Yuuri.

“Blue, huh? I think that suits you well. I’m thinking midnight-blue? Mysterious and sophisticated. Also goes well with your eyes.” The leather seat creaked as the new customer leaned back, tilting his head up so that Yuuri could see his winning smile and the peek of his ice-blue eyes under his sunglasses.

Yuuri gaped.

Viktor winked at him. “Do you agree with me, Yuuri?”

It was like their first meeting all over, where Yuuri’s brain refused to accept the reality that his eyes and ears were perceiving. He managed to get over it a lot faster this time though, clamping his hands down on Viktor’s seat for support. “ _What_ ,” he said tightly, “are you doing here? How did you find the salon?”

Viktor pulled out his phone, dangling it in front of Yuuri. “I got your friend Phichit’s phone number and asked him~ It wasn’t easy, you know.” Viktor started listing things off on his fingers. “First I had to call Mila, but she didn’t know where you worked, but she told me about your friend, then I had to look for Celestino’s number to get Phichit’s…” Viktor sighed, crossing his thighs. “It was a lot of work, you know.”

Phichit. Phichit sold him out. As Yuuri knew he would, as he’d been warned for the past few days. Yuuri couldn’t say he hadn’t seen it coming.

The bell at the front desk rang again and again, and Yuuri looked up to see Minako abusing the poor silver thing, staring at him with huge eyes.

“Could -- could you just excuse me a sec…” Yuuri dashed away and fled to the relative safety of Minako’s company. She, at the very least, seemed just as stunned as him.

She grabbed him by the bicep and pulled him close. “Uh, Yuuri,” she said, “I can’t help but notice that _Viktor Nikiforov_ is in my salon.”

“I know.”

“Wanna tell me how that happened?”

“I don’t know! No, I mean -- _Phichit_. Phichit is how it happened.” Yuuri ran anxious hands into his hair. “And all I know is that Viktor wants to talk to me about something.”

Minako was just as fidgety as him, tapping her manicured nail on the counter. “Fine, go! Talk!” she stage-whispered. “But if you cut his hair, _save it_. That stuff will go for big money on the internet.”

“I think you’ve been babysitting Yuuko’s girls too much…”

A rather lively scene greeted Yuuri by the time he headed back to Viktor. The college girl was squealing away and taking selfies with him. Two more young women and their male companion, as well as a mother dragging along her child, had jumped from their seats to crowd around Viktor too. Magazines from the salon’s pile were clutched in their hands, open to pages of Viktor in awe.

“Look, oh my god, it’s actually him! What’s he doing in a place like this? Does he always come here?”

“It’s that famous model from the magazines!”

“Viktor, please can I have another photo~?”

“Oh my god, you’re like, _so_ hot!”

It was the scene Yuuri had known would come.

Somehow, Minami wasn’t wrapped up in the excitement, and only really perked up when Yuuri returned. “Yuuri! Did you know that this is Stammi Vicino’s top male model, Viktor Nikiforov?” he said, eyes sparkling with being the messenger to this news.

“That’s...really something, huh,” was all Yuuri could say, dazed.

Viktor was taking all the attention in stride, smiling for everyone and posing for the selfies with enthusiasm. Even when he noticed Yuuri had come back for him, his face remained as radiant as ever.

“Yuuri! Come here, I came all the way here for _you_ , after all.”

Minami gave him a glance. “Yuuri, you know him?” The other customers tore their gazes from Viktor long enough to look at Yuuri too, mentally trying to piece together what his relationship was to the famous model. No doubt they were having trouble making a connection.

“Wait, you were on Viktor’s Instagram!” the college girl shouted. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!”

“Isn’t he so cute~? I need to help him be more photogenic though. I actually haven’t known Yuuri very long,” Viktor confessed. The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile as he gazed at Yuuri with bold interest. “But I’m hoping that I can get to know him a lot more.”

Yuuri cleared his throat, trying to ignore the hot chills pouring down his chest as so much attention and fascination was locked onto him. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes!”

Yuuri waited, but Viktor hadn’t moved in the slightest. He started feeling more and more awkward. “I--” He pointed behind him. “We can go to the office in the back if you want?”

“Hmm, not yet.” Viktor tilted his head, tapping a finger right beneath his lips. “Let’s have some _fun_ before we get to the business. How does that sound?”

“Huh?” Yuuri’s jaw hung open. “What, but you -- there was something you wanted to say!”

“I want to do something first. Will you listen to my request, Yuuri?” Viktor’s words came out in fluid silk, gently coaxing Yuuri into their smooth flow.

Somehow, Yuuri got the feeling that Viktor would end up getting his wish no matter what he said. After all, he ended up in the salon even after Yuuri tried to get him to reconsider. Not to mention that when it came down to it, Yuuri couldn’t say no to Viktor. Not when he wanted to do everything for him. Not after he said things like _wanting_ to see him.

Looking shyly up through his glasses, he asked, “What did you have in mind?”

Viktor lit up, pleased with Yuuri’s acquiesce.

“Then, since I’m here, I might as well be a customer, right? Yuuri, I’d like a makeover~” Viktor took off his sunglasses and shed off his coat, dumping both in the empty seat beside him. Full of expectation, he sat there, smiling at Yuuri’s stunned reflection in the mirror in front of them.

At least by now, the hovering customers had the decency to disperse to gossip about seeing Viktor. Only Minami remained, looking as surprised as Yuuri felt. But he too found reason to awkwardly inch away from the scene, and then it was just Yuuri and Viktor.

Yuuri gazed at the features of Viktor’s face, his charming smile and the prominant arch nose, his high cheekbones and long lashes that fluttered as his eyes ran patiently down Yuuri’s body. After gazing at his pictures for so long, Yuuri knew all those features quite well.

But Viktor, who knew nothing about him, seemed to be studying Yuuri too, trying to figure him out. There wasn’t much he would find; Yuuri was pretty readable and wasn’t good at hiding things. It was almost the opposite for Viktor -- his expressions changed quickly, and his smile seemed to exist only due to professional habit. Even sitting in a cracked leather chair and under the humming lights of the salon, Viktor made the setting perfect for a photoshoot with him as the captivating centerpiece.

A weird itch twitched at Yuuri’s fingertips at the thought. He observed the contour of Viktor’s body more critically, taking in the light, the thin drape of his sweater over his delicate shoulders. The knitted fabric was a dyed gradient that went from black at Viktor’s shoulders to a misty grey at the long hem that bunched at his hips. It gave the impression of rainfall. Rainfall of faded stars, with the light overhead and the silver of Viktor’s hair.

Slowly, Viktor uncrossed his thighs, his heeled boot audibly clicking down on the tiled floor. “I have no preference what you do to me, by the way. Surprise me. I want to know what kind of beauty you envision for me. Can you do that for me, Yuuri?”

_Is this really okay?_

Yuuri swallowed. “Anything is fine?”

Viktor’s eyes glimmered in encouragement. “Anything.”

 _This can’t be okay. Viktor Nikiforov should only have professionals touching his face. There’s no way I can show him a beauty that inspires him_.

Yuuri nervously moved forward to the vanity, bumping his fingertips against the containers of make-up there as if trying to draw energy from them. It half felt like he was walking through a dream. He glanced at Viktor’s reflection, his heart skipping a beat to see that Viktor was still staring, his expression open and completely calm.

Like a blank canvas. He was empty while at the same time endlessly inspiring Yuuri as a muse. The combination begged him to pick up his brushes and sponges, to create a completely new image of Viktor that only he could find. Viktor’s face right now was for Yuuri to splash with color, just as he’d been dreaming of for years.

With a deep breath, Yuuri turned and lightly touched Viktor’s face, tracing his jawline with his fingertips, feeling his realness, and began.

His heart was hammering wildly in his chest the whole time, an insistent beat pulsating in the background as Yuuri forced himself into a silent world where he wouldn’t pay attention to everyone in the salon watching curiously, the excited chatter of Viktor’s name, or even the fact that it was _Viktor Nikiforov_ under his hands at that moment.

His skin was so soft, and completely without blemishes -- even after being outside in the cold, his lips weren’t chapped in the least. Even without any make-up on yet, Viktor was flawless, like smoothly cut ice.

He was completely pliant to every one of Yuuri’s movements, tilting his head and closing his eyes and pressing his lips together without Yuuri even needing to ask. That was to be expected since he was put in this position so often. Time and again, Viktor’s look had been painted on, giving him many faces. Which kind did Viktor like best? Did he even have a preference? As Yuuri worked, he mindlessly found himself driven by that thought: which of those painted faces was the closest to bringing out the beauty within Viktor? Which plainly brought his heart to the surface? Maybe it was weird to think of it like that.

At any rate, Yuuri wished he had more make-up to work with to more perfectly match his vision, but he would have to make do. All he kept seeing when he blinked was the gentle fall of silver stars.

“No peeking,” he said when Viktor’s gaze roamed a bit beyond Yuuri.

“Of course. I won’t spoil the surprise.” There was humor in the lowered timbre of Viktor’s voice. Yuuri was hyperaware of the movement of his lips as he dabbed lip stain on. Only when he pulled back did Viktor murmur, “I like the way you look when you do this.”

It almost sounded like a stray thought, as if he spoke subconsciously. Yuuri didn’t dwell on it and finished up. He stared deeply at Viktor’s complete look, searching for imperfections to his work. Before he realized it, he was locking gazes with Viktor, who returned the stare with intensity. It sent a flurry of heat down Yuuri’s spine.

“I -- um, you can look now.”

When he stepped to the side, Viktor rose from his seat. Even though he was most concerned about Viktor’s reaction, Yuuri couldn’t help but notice practically everyone in the salon (oh god, there were more people now) had also inched curiously closer. They all were with Yuuri in their bated breath for Viktor’s thoughts though.

The first thing Yuuri had wanted to adorn were the soft petals of Viktor’s eyelids. He ended up rimming his piercing eyes in a thin line of soft smoke style using a dark, rainy shade of blue eyeliner. A dash of steel-grey eyeshadow was brushed around the corners of Viktor’s eyes. It gave him a casual but stylish look that brought out the blue of the eyes Yuuri had always been captivated by. Yuuri would’ve loved to put tiny silver stars like confetti underneath if he had some, but he had to settle for drawing little dots with the eyeliner.

Viktor’s lips were lightly painted in silver at the seam, as if he had swallowed starlight. His cheekbones were already well-defined, but Yuuri added a splash of contour anyway to make them sharper and more elegant. A flair like that worked anyway with the gold bands on Viktor’s wrists and the heeled boots he wore.

All the colors and strokes seemed perfect at the time, but the longer Viktor stood there, silent, expression unchanging, the more Yuuri began to doubt himself. He grew self-conscious, wondering if he exposed too much, if it was obvious he spent hours at a time thinking how he wanted to put on Viktor’s make-up one day, to give him a beautiful face that everyone would fall for. Perhaps he projected too much. Perhaps his inspiration yielded underwhelming results.

Then Viktor exhaled. It was a quiet breath of life that he seemed to have locked away inside him. Yuuri was sure he was the only one to hear it.

Viktor turned, seized Yuuri’s wrist, and dragged him away. The customers, Minami, and Minako all exclaimed, but Viktor listened to none of them. Yuuri forgot how to breathe until they were shoved in Minako’s office, the door closing.

And they were alone. Together. It was too quiet. Viktor stared him down, his gaze even more intense with Yuuri’s striking work.

Yuuri was trapped against the door, Viktor trapping him in with his proximity.

“Yuuri,” Viktor finally breathed, “you have to do it. I can’t think of anyone else in the world.”

A stunned and weak _me too_ caught in Yuuri’s throat right alongside where his heart was lodged.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said again, lips spreading in an excited smile, “if you accept, starting today I will be _your_ model. I want you to be my personal make-up artist. I want you to paint my face, to show me the facets of beauty you see in me. Wherever I go, whatever I’m wearing, I want only you to touch my face.”

Viktor’s hand came up, caressing the side of Yuuri’s face in the same delicate -- borderline reverent -- manner that Yuuri had done to him just a few minutes ago. Swirls of warmth bloomed where Viktor touched him, paralyzing Yuuri’s whole body.

“Will you say yes...?”

* * *

Yuuri put down his empty coat with a frown. “Huh? That’s weird, I can’t find my phone.”

The salon was vacant now, all the rabid Viktor fans finally shooed out the door. It had taken no time at all thanks to the power of social media for a sizable crowd to loiter in front of the salon hoping to catch a glimpse of the handsome model inside. Now only an exhausted Minako and energized Minami remained with Yuuri.

Well, and Viktor was still around, of course.

He was sitting in one of the chairs again, legs crossed on the seat. The make-up on his face still remained, and he seemed to have zero intention in wiping it off. He had been good so far in staying out of the way while the salon had been cleaned up, and piped up only to ask questions about the employees, namely Yuuri. This in turn made Minami, a self-proclaimed Yuuri fan, spill everything he could to an eagerly attentive Viktor.

(“Looks like you have a fanclub,” Minako said with a huge grin. Yuuri buried his face in his hands.)

Viktor looked up in attention to Yuuri’s distress. “Oh, I can help you.” He pulled out his own phone, tapping away. “Okay~ I’m calling you now.”

A buzzing came alive in the room, followed by a muffled ringtone. Yuuri searched around for the source, but Viktor beat him to it, plucking up Yuuri’s phone from inside his small make-up bag.

“... _where your destiny lies, dancing on the blades, you set my heart on fire! Don’t stop us now, the moment of--”_

Viktor hung up on his phone, ending the ringtone, and squinted at Yuuri’s screen.

“Oh, thank you, Viktor.” Yuuri stared, holding out his hand. “Is -- something wrong?”

“Yes,” Viktor said, like it was obvious. A childish moue expression drew on his painted lips. “Why am I still listed as an unknown number on your phone? We’ve texted for _days_.” Viktor placed the phone against his chest. “Yuuri, I’m rather hurt.”

Yuuri dropped his hand. He honestly had no real answer for that aside from lamely thinking Viktor texting him was some ongoing fever dream. It wasn’t like he _hadn’t_ thought about making Viktor an official contact, but Yuuri ended up getting too embarrassed that he _literally had Viktor Nikiforov’s phone number and could contact him whenever he wanted_.

None of this was something he could tell to Viktor though, so he could only make awkward stalling sounds. Viktor huffed. He tapped away on Yuuri’s phone and took a cheerful selfie before holding it out with a satisfied smile.

“There. _Much_ better.”

Before Yuuri could even check what Viktor had written, Viktor’s own phone went off, and he laughed at the caller ID that came up. When he answered, he only spoke Russian, and while Yuuri couldn’t understand what he was saying, his tone was light and almost saccharine. It was a direct contrast to the rather angry shouting muffled against Viktor’s ear.

With a laugh, Viktor hung up. “Oh no, I’m in trouble, it seems.”

“You don’t look very distressed about it,” Minako noted, crossing her arms.

“I’m used to it, so Yakov’s yelling has been ineffective on me for years,” Viktor said, sounding very pleased to have such an achievement. He rose from his seat, smoothing his slim-fit grey pants over his legs. He shrugged on his coat, but kept his sunglasses hanging on his sweater’s neckline. “Well, that’s my cue to take off. Yuuri, walk me out?” He smiled hopefully.

Yuuri couldn’t say no. He walked over and waited by the door while Viktor placed quite a few bills on the counter for Minako to take, cheerfully complimenting her and the salon. Then he waltzed right out the door with Yuuri in the January chill. Yuuri shivered a bit in his turtleneck, regretting not grabbing his own coat.

“You should put your sunglasses on. Isn’t it trouble if someone recognizes you walking down the street?” Not that it seemed Viktor minded broadcasting his life; he never really hid himself from public and he’d already uploaded a new selfie to Instagram and tagged the salon (that was probably why Yakov was so pissed at Viktor and how more fans piled over, come to think of it).

As expected, Viktor only laughed at Yuuri’s silly question. “What’s the point of disguising myself?” He stopped a few paces down the street, unlocking the parked car in front of them. When Yuuri gave it a glance, he could see why Viktor said that, and nearly choked.

Of course Viktor disguising himself was useless _when he apparently drove a fucking hot-pink vintage Cadillac_ . The color was bright and eye-catching in the grey and white expanse of winter. Even its roof cover was painted Barbie dreamhouse-pink. Like everything else about Viktor, it _demanded_ attention.

“You _drive_ this?” He remembered the car being in a summer photoshoot Viktor was in once, but he thought it was just a prop. No one seriously _drove_ these. People like Viktor should be driving something ridiculously sleek and modern, shouldn’t they??

“Isn’t he fabulous~? I’m a sucker for vintage, you know.” Viktor was giving him another joyous, heart-shaped smile as he slid into the front seat. He did, in fact, drive this car. Proudly. _This_ was the car he so recklessly drove and sent selfies in. Also the car wasn’t an “it” but a “he” -- was there a name go with the car?

Yuuri wanted to say a sophisticated man like Viktor looked ridiculous in this, but somehow, it also suited him in the respect that its very existence was completely surprising.

“I’m sorry I have to head out so soon, but,” Viktor reached out, taking Yuuri’s cold hand in his, “promise me you’ll think about what I said?”

Yuuri’s breath came out in a white wisp, carried off with the breeze. He didn’t look at their linked hands, but remained steady in gazing into Viktor’s eyes. “Okay.”

“And you’ll contact me tomorrow? I’m willing to wait forever for you, but Yakov -- he is not, haha...”

Yuuri nodded. “I promise.”

Viktor ran his thumb along Yuuri’s knuckles, offering a soft smile. Images of old time movies where the gentleman kissed the lady’s hand flashed in Yuuri’s mind, but Viktor slowly withdrew his hand. The lingering reminded him of their first handshake.

“Good. I hope to hear from you soon, Yuuri Katsuki.” With that, Viktor closed his door and, with a wave, drove off and disappeared down the street.

Yuuri waited until he couldn’t make out the streak of pink, then finally shuffled around to get his freezing blood circulating again. Retreating back to the safety of the heated salon, Yuuri pulled out his phone and checked his messages from Viktor, re-reading the last thing he sent.

 

 **From: ✨ Viktor ✨**  
_you should come to SV <3 _

 

Exiting out of the window, Yuuri stared at his wallpaper of his selfie with Viktor. Their twin smiles and touching cheeks made Yuuri more sure of what he had to do, and it warmed his insides.

That was before he realized with horror that Viktor had to have seen the wallpaper when he put in his contact information. Oh god had he opened Yuuri’s gallery to set his selfie as his contact photo? How much of a creep did Viktor think he was _now_?

Yuuri wondered if Minami was willing to bury him in the snow.

* * *

“Congratulations, Yuuri, you’re not a goddamn idiot after all!”

Yuuri was laying facedown on the sofa, not having the strength to even start a dinner after the exhausting day. One of Phichit’s hamsters had escaped from Phichit’s room and was nesting right on top of Yuuri’s head and he couldn’t find motivation to move it. When Phichit came home though, Yuuri gathered the hamster in his palm and looked up to see Phichit waving his text in his face. Right below it was Yuuri's next message of saying Viktor had offered to make Yuuri his make-up artist.

Re-reading the message, Yuuri was reminded again that this _was_ real. The past few hours of his life _had_ happened. He'd had Viktor Nikiforov's face under his fingertips, Viktor had mirrored the touch on his own skin, and he'd actually put make-up on Viktor's drop-dead gorgeous face.

Phichit was patient, letting Yuuri refresh the memories of his reality. Then he scooped his hamster up and plopped down on the sofa too. "I'm so happy for you, Yuuri! This is literally your dream come true, isn't it?"

"No," Yuuri breathed. "I could never even bring myself to honestly wish I could always work with Viktor." There were fleeting fantasies, sure, but nothing permanent or concrete like Viktor actually being his model! Yuuri's eyes fell to the spread of magazines that he'd left out on the coffee table, half of which had Viktor's image right on the front cover. Yuuri picked one up, staring down at it. 

Phichit hummed, tapping away on his phone. "Okaaay, but you _are_ saying yes, right? Like this isn't even a discussion, right?"

Well, of course Yuuri knew what he wanted to do. But he just -- wanted to give Viktor time. Maybe he'd change his mind. There had to be way more qualified make-up artists out there, and Yuuri groaned and told Phichit as much.

"He saw you in your natural habitat, Yuuri. Not that Minako's salon isn't amazing, but he knows you're not out on booked schedules doing make-up for celebrities. He even let you show him what you could do and was _amazed_ by it." 

"How do you know about that?"

Phichit's phone screen was shoved in Yuuri's face, open to Instagram and Viktor's latest upload at the salon. He was in the make-up Yuuri had painted on, face angled toward the light to bring out every color and shadow, his expression beautiful, frozen, elegant. It was exactly the look Yuuri had been doing mental photoshoots of as he'd applied the make-up. Yuuri blushed at all the comments complimenting the look, but he reasoned that people would be satisfied with any pictures of Viktor. It couldn't be about his work.

But perceptive best friend Phichit could see the denial building in Yuuri and lightly bonked his head with the corner of his phone. "He loves it, Yuuri," he repeated. He snatched the magazine from Yuuri's hands and pointed at Viktor's face, sleek and perfect on the glossy page. " _He_!! He wants you to do _more_ and work with him. You _have_ to go for the job." 

"Why does Viktor even need a make-up artist, anyway? I mean, I'm sure a model like him already has someone amazing..." Not that Yuuri had the chance to meet them at SV the other day. But surely there was someone talented and beautiful already that had been painting Viktor's face into the masterpiece it always was for shows and shoots.

Phichit shrugged. "I haven't heard anything. Oh man, do you think he ditched them for you?"

"That's not funny!" Yuuri shrieked, hoping it wasn't true and he'd ruined someone's life. Viktor wouldn't do that. The man was unexpected and impulsive, but not heartless. He made a note to ask about Viktor's previous artist though.

Yuuri thought again of Viktor so close to him, his eyes never once leaving him, of the unbridled excitement in his voice when he spoke to Yuuri. He sounded so much like he wanted him, that he had fallen in love with his work, that he believed Yuuri had brought out beauty in him. For a few exhilarating heartbeats, Yuuri believed it too, and believed that he wanted to give that joy to Viktor again and again.

"Yuuri," Phichit waved the magazine in front of his face, "you collect every single magazine that Viktor is in, have his spreads on your wall, follow his fashion tours online, and probably fantasize about seductively applying his lipstick. I say, what do you have to lose?"

Yuuri opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he reached out and snatched his magazine back. How the hell did Phichit know about that fantasy anyway? "Okay!" he said. "I'll do it. I'll call him tomorrow and say I'll do it!" 

"That's my boy!" Phichit brought his hamster close to kiss Yuuri's cheek. "Do it now, before you lose your resolve!" 

"That won't be desperate?"

"Don't play hard to get more than you already have, Yuuri. The poor man drove all the way to the salon because you were teasing him so much." 

It was hard to imagine that Yuuri had unintentionally been playing such a game with Viktor. Viktor had come over because it was unexpected. He had always been a model that loved doing what was surprising; that was why he worked with Stammi Vicino. Yuuri doubted that he could measure up to the company's standards in that regard, as Viktor's make-up artist no less... 

But he did want to try. He wanted to highlight Viktor's beauty, even if just one more time. 

* * *

Yuuri ended up doing one better to Phichit's insistence that Yuuri call Viktor back that night. 

The next morning, Yuuri's body was burning with energy. Ticklish warmth was running at a hundred miles through his veins, and he quickly jumped from bed and got dressed. He thought about putting on a splash of make-up to look more presentable and sophisticated, but he figured he'd only lose his resolve if he stopped in front of the mirror now. 

Two bus rides later, he was at Stammi Vicino. Yuuri had no idea where he was going or who to ask for directions. He ended up circling the pristine, expensive building, drowning in perfume for about fifteen minutes. Perhaps this was a mistake. He should've called or texted first, but Yuuri do anything coherent when there was liquid fire that impulsively burst and spurred him on.

That was when his eyes caught a glimpse of silver heading for the elevators. Yuuri's legs moved on autopilot, little fireworks erupting in his ribcage as he reached the golden doors of the elevator, forcing them to stay open with his hand.

Startled, Viktor glanced up from his phone. The crease of a serious, almost disappointed, frown on his brow eased, and his eyes lit up. 

"Yuuri, what a surprise! What are you doing here?" 

Yuuri's jaw hung open, nothing coming out. He was vaguely aware how he must look, his shoved-on clothes a poor attempt at looking fashionable, his cheeks ruddy and glasses hanging low off his sweating nose. He probably should've cleaned his face up better after all, or worn a slimming shade of black, but he was here now, and Viktor was grasping his hand and pulling him into the elevator.

The doors gradually closed, cutting off the noise of people outside. Now it was just Yuuri's ragged breathing and stuttering heartbeat.

Viktor was smiling, hopefully. "Yuuri?" 

"I'll do it," Yuuri finally breathed, and time finally caught up to him in the elevator with its mirrored walls. His Japanese upbringing prompted him to bend his upper body forward in a bow, and he stared at the expensive leather of Viktor's shoes. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to answer you, but after yesterday..." He bent lower. "I'd really like to work with you, Viktor. I want to be your make-up artist!"

There was a rush of breath above Yuuri. Behind him, the elevator opened again, still stuck on the first floor. Viktor's shoes stepped out of his field of vision just long enough for Viktor to say, "I'm sorry, occupied!" and the doors closed once more. Uncertainly, Yuuri raised his head, and was met with Viktor looking just as breathless as him. But he was smiling. 

"I'll admit, I thought I'd have to chase you a lot longer."

Remembering how Phichit called him a tease, Yuuri cleared his throat. "Um, I'm sorry I played hard to get?" He laughed awkwardly, and his cheeks immediately burned. Did that just count as flirting? It was a shitty attempt, that was for sure. 

But Viktor was amused, and he laughed too. He sprang forward and wrapped Yuuri in a hug, the familiarity in his physical affection throwing Yuuri for a dizzying loop. "Yuuri! I'm so glad you accepted! I'll be the best model you ever worked with -- of course, I'm your first and only, but it'll be the best experience. You'll see! Now then..." Viktor pulled back, his voice lowering. "I already have your first assignment." 

"Huh? Oh, o-okay." He didn't bring his make-up kit though, and he wasn't really dressed and he hadn't signed any contracts and--

A hand carded through his hair, brushing his bangs back. Viktor had done this before, and the repeated action froze Yuuri in place. Normally he was quite bothered by physicality, but all of Viktor's displays of touching him had strange calming effects rippling through Yuuri's body. His thoughts silenced.

A smile was hinted at the bow of Viktor's lips. "Trim your bangs. You can keep the rest long if you'd like, but I think it's a shame your cute face keeps getting hidden by these bangs. When you're among models, everyone needs to see the full beauty of your smile, and the shine of your eyes." Viktor's hand shifted from his hair, dropping down to lightly boop his nose. 

The elevator jolted to life, and Yuuri felt like his heart was being pushed up and up along with it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay we're finally getting this show on the road! we'll be seeing a lot more of the other characters, like yurio, now~ no make-up artists were fired in the making of this fic btw, it'll be explained next chapter.
> 
> viktor’s car is named alejandro by the way. 9000% for lady gaga.
> 
> see what shenanigans im doing between updates on my twitter @fuwajellyfish~ sometimes i talk about this au and stuff in future chapters (im even trying to plan an otayuri sidestory atm! its a far-off dream BUT EVENTUALLY....)


	4. bet you looking for something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! It's a special chapter this time around filled with lots of dumb flirting, oblivious Yuuri, and dokis galore. All in the name of Valentine's Day being tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy, a lot happens in this chapter; lots of scene changes and timeskips, but they're not too wide. Hopefully the pacing is still okay!
> 
> Chapter title is from "Trndsttr" by Black Coast

Yuuri borrowed some hair-cutting shears from Minako. That same day, he told her and Minami about Viktor’s job offer. He felt bad that he made a decision without letting her know first, and felt worse now that he realized that he’d be leaving her and Minami. To his relief, both of them were very understanding, if not teary-eyed. They insisted that they were proud tears.

“I used to do make-up for models too before opening this salon,” Minako said with a nostalgic smile. “You end up meeting a lot of interesting people in that industry. It’ll be a good experience for you, Yuuri. Even though you don’t like being around all the noise and attention, I always thought maybe you were a bit too cooped up in here.” She reached out and ruffled his hair. “You knock ‘em dead out there, okay?”

It was a bit harder to tell if Minami was happy or not with Yuuri’s departure from the salon. He hadn’t stopped crying yet, but he was squeezing his arms tightly around Yuuri’s waist and shaking his shoulders.

“Yuuri, I’m so happy for you!!!” His face smushed into Yuuri’s chest. “I wish you didn’t have to leave, but I get it, you’re gonna enhance your career and make a name for yourself! I won’t lose, okay?” Minami pulled back, large, watery eyes meeting Yuuri’s with determination. “I’ll keep learning more and more things, and take good care of the salon with Ms. Okukawa! So don’t worry about a thing, Minami Kenjirou has it all covered!”

“At the very least, you don’t gotta worry about it getting quiet after you leave,” Minako said with an amused snort.

And well, that was that. Yuuri was grateful to have such supportive friends.

So Yuuri stood in front of his mirror, shears in hand, ready to trim his bangs. If he studied his reflection too much, he knew he’d get self-conscious, so he raised the silver scissors and started to snip.

Phichit was right next to him, sharing the mirror as he held a brush of liquid eyeliner. Yuuri had turned his friend on to it back in college and now Phichit could apply his trademark winged eyeliner in his sleep.

Yuuri almost laughed at the sight of them -- two grown men fussing over themselves in front of the mirror. Given their line of work, it wasn’t like Yuuri thought they were behaving abnormally or anything, but it was amusing how natural this routine in front of the mirror was for them. It felt like a big “fuck you” to the guys that used to tease Yuuri in school when Minako started letting him borrow make-up.

Yuuri was glad he never gave up on his hobby-turned-profession. After all, if he had, he probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to suddenly be Viktor Nikiforov’s make-up artist.

As Phichit finished up, Yuuri too wiped his strands of hair into the wastebasket. Afterward, he got out his make-up bag, pulling out his essentials.

Phichit glanced over at him and grinned. “Look at you getting all dolled up for _Viktor_.”

“It’s not for him!” Not _fully_ , anyway... Make-up was Yuuri’s confidence boost, and he needed it more than ever now that he was officially going to be around dazzling models a lot more often.

“Uh-huh. Your hair looks great, by the way.” Phichit gave him a thumbs up. “Your bangs really were getting ridiculously long. You can see your handsome face at last~”

Yuuri smiled shyly. “Thanks.” He’d been uncertain about not having any covers for his face, but Yuuri wanted to trust Viktor. He might’ve been saying something generic with the “beauty of his smile” and “shine of his eyes,” but -- a part of Yuuri wanted to stop hiding, even a little. Maybe he’d be able to find truth in Viktor’s words as he worked at Stammi Vicino. Maybe he could find someone beautiful in himself for once.

Besides, Yuuri could cover up whatever he wanted with cosmetics. What he _was_ worried about was… He turned to the side, smoothing his shirt over and lightly scowling at the soft, round pudge peeking over the waistband of his pants.

Phichit noticed. “Yuuri,” he warned.

“Why did I have to meet Viktor right after I put on all that weight over the holidays?” he groaned. Darn his mother’s delicious Christmas and New Years’ feasts. Darn her for making large bowlfuls his absolute favorite pork cutlet dish for him. Yuuri tugged at his shirt. “I should wear something longer to cover myself better.”

“I thought you liked wearing short shirts because they show off your cute ass?”

“I mean, _true_ ,” his butt was the only feature about him that Yuuri actually _liked_ , “but what if my shirt rides up or something? I'm going to be around tiny, fit models and-- _Ow_!?”

Out of nowhere, Phichit jabbed his arm with his eyeliner. “Work it, then! Don’t you _want_ to show off your cute ass to Viktor? Those pants make it look good too. Oh, my little dumpling is such a temptress! Let me take a commemorative photo for your first day!”

Yuuri tried to ignore him and the click of his phone’s camera. “You calling me a dumpling isn’t helping,” he said, lips pushed out -- half in a moue expression, half to finish applying his rose-tinted sheer lipstick.

“You are a gorgeous man, Yuuri!” Phichit insisted, and he slapped Yuuri’s butt on his way out the door for good measure. “You will _slay_.”

* * *

 

Despite having gone through the torture of Yakov’s interrogation-like interview and successfully working with Mila, Yuuri's presence in Stammi Vicino was still met with skepticism. The carefully-constructed confidence that Yuuri had been applying all morning slowly lost its power, and he had to fight the urge to shrink down at the intense gaze Yakov gave him.

“To think Viktor was actually serious about bringing you back,” he muttered, arms crossed. He shot a sharp look behind Yuuri where Viktor was sitting.

The three of them were inside Viktor’s dressing room, along with a fourth person: a tall, slender woman with sharp, unyielding eyes to match Yakov’s, and dark hair that was tightly pulled back in a bun. Despite the severity of her countenance, she was beautiful in a regal way. Yuuri wanted to say that she looked familiar, but he couldn’t place where he might have seen her.

Yakov introduced them. “Yuuri, this is Lilia Baranovskaya. She’s a legendary former supermodel in Russia, and she’s been Viktor’s mentor and make-up artist for the past few years.”

Oh! _That_ was how Yuuri knew her! He’d been a casual follower of Lilia’s work as a teenager, mesmerized and awed over the elegant artistry of her make-up work. Of course, he’d tried to replicate her technique on his own face, but could never quite capture her unique take on beauty. At the beginning of his dabbling into cosmetics though, she’d been there.

Yuuri couldn’t believe it. He was supposed to follow up _Lilia Baranovskaya_ ? Was Viktor _crazy_?

“P-Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Baranovskaya! I’ve admired your work for quite some time.” He smiled, offering his hand out.

Lilia grasped it, giving it a curt shake. “So you are familiar with me. How long have you been in the business of cosmetics?”

Yuuri braced himself for another intense interview. “I-I’ve worked at a beauty salon, Minako’s, out in the city for about six or seven years.”

Instead of more firm questions, Lilia hummed in consideration. “I saw pictures of your work on Mila. Very beautiful. More exposure to models will be good for your career, but perhaps you should think deeply that you’ll be representing Stammi Vicino in your little _test-run_.”

“He has good instincts, and doesn’t hesitate,” Viktor cut in from where he sat on his sofa. He gave Yuuri a smile. “You wouldn’t think it looking at him, but he’s full of surprises. He’ll fit right in with our brand. I think he’ll thrive here.”

Yuuri’s heartbeat stuttered. He couldn’t even bring himself to argue that he was the most consistent and _predictable_ person on earth. He just basked in Viktor’s praise, smiling gratefully.

“Yes, you showed me pictures of the work he did on you too,” Lilia said, though she didn’t sound particularly impressed. She hummed again, this time more closely inspecting the make-up Yuuri had put on himself. He felt naked without his glasses and with his hair slicked back.

Yuuri felt himself starting to get embarrassed. It was like Viktor found a puppy on the street and was seeking his parents’ approval to keep it.

Finally Lilia backed up. “My time will be used to train the younger models here, so I can’t be Viktor’s artist any longer. But I’ll be nearby, observing. Don’t disappoint me with the beauty you create, Yuuri Katsuki. I expect everyone to be unable to look away from Viktor’s face, and to fall in love with his enchantments.”

For a moment there was silence, and then Yuuri realized she was waiting on an answer. He straightened up. “I won’t, ma’am! I’ll make Viktor very beautiful!”

For the first time, Lilia smiled. It was small and tight, but not unkind. “Models are already beautiful. Your job is to enhance it, to find a new stunning facet for others to gaze upon, like the iridescent sides of a diamond.” Without another word, she walked out the door.

By the end of the exchange, Yakov was gaping. Yuuri wondered if Lilia had been present because Yakov had been hoping she’d dismiss Yuuri. Viktor sure looked like he was giving his agent a triumphant grin, at any rate, like he'd won some bet.

Seeing it, Yakov snorted then turned to Yuuri. “Viktor has a commercial shoot followed by a photo session coming up, both for a brand of cologne. Be here on time, and we’ll leave for the venue together.” With that, he too was out the door.

“He’ll grow on you,” Viktor reassured with a laugh. He reached out to squeeze Yuuri’s hand.

“I can’t tell if I’m hired or not,” Yuuri admitted, forcing a smile.

“Of course you are. I told you before, I can think of no one else in the world to be my make-up artist,” Viktor said, as if that was the only requirement needed for Yuuri to be here. It might as well have been with how confidently Viktor held himself like he ran the show here, and insisted on getting his way no matter how it annoyed Yakov.

It confused Yuuri so much how Viktor could act this way about him, that he could be the trigger to this impulse, the reason for the awe in Viktor’s voice and the excitement in his eyes. But in the end, what made Yuuri’s insides fill with butterflies and tickle the corners of his lips was _happiness_ . Rather than nerves, he was so incredibly _happy_ that somehow, someway, he got Viktor to pay attention to him, and that he went through so much just to get Yuuri back here by his side.

Even now, Yuuri’s smile grew more genuine, and he gave Viktor’s hand a squeeze too.

“I’m in your care then.”

Viktor’s gaze flickered down to the press of their palms. His eyes started to shine. “Hey, let’s have lunch together today, Yuuri.”

It was such a casual request, something said between people all the time. It didn’t sound as mundane when Viktor said it though. He hadn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand, for one. Not that Yuuri was pulling back either.

Yuuri let out a small laugh to ease his tension. “You sure you won’t get another angry call from Yakov if we go off somewhere?”

“The commercial thing isn’t until tomorrow, and it’d be a shame to waste the day when you already came all this way.” Viktor listed off the reasons why this was a good idea, a _fantastic_ idea. He sure was smiling like it was. He tugged Yuuri closer until Yuuri was in danger of tumbling into his lap. “I promise it’ll just be us. No weird family outing with the others. I’ll even drive you home.”

Yuuri released a surprised breath through his lips. _I -- I want to go_. The desire was whispered in the first beat of his heart, ready for Yuuri to deny it. But it was true that Yuuri wanted to hold Viktor’s time and attention just a little while longer.

He nodded. “Okay, we can go. But,” he grimaced, “I’ll have to give the ride home a little more thought.”

Viktor finally let go of his hand. “I thought you liked Alejandro!”

“It’s not _Alejandro_ I have reservations about…”

* * *

 

It soon didn’t matter who Yuuri had apprehensions over -- Viktor had to drive them to their lunch location anyway, and it forced Yuuri to evaluate whether he was willing to get himself _killed_ to spend an hour with his idol.

Yuuri was pretty sure he left indents in his seat where he gripped the leather for dear life. They rolled through the snowy streets at a determined pace, Yuuri getting tossed at every turn. He’d exclaimed loudly in Japanese without realizing it because Viktor was apparently one of those people who thought yellow lights meant GO FASTER!! _and was he fuckin’ crazy, there was goddamn ice on the road!_

When they reached a cafe somehow in one piece and had parked, Viktor was laughing away.

“What were you speaking back there? That was Japanese, right?”

“Y-Yes,” Yuuri breathed, not trusting to take off his seatbelt just yet. He might’ve left his stomach behind somewhere on the street during a hard turn.

“Were you born in Japan?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, still shaky in his voice. Out of habit, he felt for his glasses to straighten them, before he remembered he wore contacts that day. “But, uh -- me and my family moved here to America when I was five. We go back to Japan every so often, visiting the rest of the family and stuff. At home we speak Japanese, and my parents run a Japanese-style inn, so sometimes it feels like we never left.” Talking about his family relaxed him, enough to pry himself off his seat and step his feet down on blessed land.

Viktor followed, making sure all the car locks were in place. “That sounds amazing! I want to visit the inn, Yuuri!”

It was a sudden declaration, but Yuuri had no doubt that Viktor meant it 1000 percent. Yuuri thought about it. His parents might appreciate the business boost, at any rate. But he wanted Viktor to see it too, the inn that had doubled as the home he’d grown up in. Viktor would enjoy the great and funny stories Yuuri’s father always shared with the customers, and his mother made the best food in the world.

“It’s not luxurious or anything,” he said with a nostalgic smile, “but it _is_ really nice and cozy.”

“I’ve been to Japan a few times for work, mostly to Tokyo though. I _love_ all the fashion there, the modern and traditional both~ It’s so diverse!” Viktor’s eyes lit up as he remembered his travels. He held the door to the cafe open for Yuuri, letting him in first.

Inside, it was warm and cozy, immediately melting the cold clinging to his cheeks and bones. Mixed scents of sweet coffee and delicious hot food wafted through the air. Yuuri hadn’t ever been here before, but he liked the atmosphere of it. Viktor had chosen well.

After they placed their orders, Viktor sat them down on plush, floral-printed chairs near the fireplace at the center of the cafe’s dining room. There were cups of hot tea -- green for Yuuri and black for Viktor -- already warming their hands and insides as they waited on their food. Yuuri sighed contentedly. He really needed this after all the stress of preparing for today’s meeting.

Viktor put his cup down on the dark wood of the table and leaned forward. “So, you were born in Japan, your family owns an inn, and you’ve worked at a beauty salon the past few years. You like green tea, and -- based on everything I’ve seen you wear so far -- you like the color blue.” He cupped his chin with his palm. “What else can you tell me about you, Yuuri Katsuki?”

The tea felt warmer going down Yuuri's throat. "You -- want to know about me?"

"Of course. We'll be spending lots of time together now, after all. So I think it's important we build some chemistry and trust between us." Viktor tilted his head, an open, encouraging smile spreading on his lips. He had so many smiles, all of them dazzling in their unique ways. Some lit up Viktor's eyes, making them sparkle like clear ocean water in the morning. Some crinkled the corners of his eyes with the size of its mirth. Others seemed heavy and cold, like a mask. Yuuri wondered how many more smiles he's get to see from Viktor, how many expressions his face could capture, and which of them had never been captured behind a camera before.

Yuuri's memory flashed back to the dreamy, enamored expression on Viktor’s face when he'd walked in on Yuuri working on Mila. There had been an open vulnerability there that had made him seem ordinary and human while at the same time endlessly beautiful.

Right now though, Yuuri felt like the vulnerable one. The cup of tea was suddenly a barrier for Yuuri to seek shelter behind. He dared to peek at Viktor through the rising steam.

“What do you want to know?” he asked cautiously.

Viktor looked like he didn’t know where to start. “Anything?" He shrugged. "Everything!”

“We’ll be here a lot longer than a lunch if you want to know _everything_.”

“Fair enough. Then I really _would_ start getting angry calls from Yakov.” Viktor tapped his chin, considering. “Then tell me what you like to do. When you’re not being a make-up artist.”

“Mmn… I like movies? Phichit makes me watch a lot of them because he likes analyzing them. I like fantasies and sci-fi, but also dramas and romances.”

“Oh? You’re a romantic?”

Yuuri picked at the cup in his hands. When he glanced around, he realized that just about everyone else in the cafe was huddled for warmth in couples, whispering to each other with smiles, taking bites of each other’s meals, their ankles rubbing together under the table. The atmosphere in the cafe seemed a bit warmer, and it tickled the back of Yuuri’s neck, making him hyperaware how he and Viktor must look to anyone glancing inside through the foggy window.

“I’m a bit of a sap, yeah,” he admitted, the tips of his ears growing hot as he smiled shyly.

“So you’re a dozen roses, box of chocolates, stereo-playing-love-songs-out-your-window type of guy? That’s so cute~”

Yuuri nearly choked on his tea. “Th-that’s not important information!”

“Then should I tell you how to make a Viktor Nikiforov swoon in return?” Viktor winked.

 _That_ was -- slightly more interesting and important information. Yuuri kind of always pictured Viktor having rather sky-high romantic standards to go with his larger-than-life personality. Something like expensive gifts or fancy dinners. Interviewers had tried to prod at how one would go about winning Viktor’s heart before, but none succeeded in prying answers from him. It was teenage Yuuri’s greatest conundrum. The only thing the world had ever been able to gather was that Viktor was interested in men.

(For the record, yes, Yuuri was utterly weak to flowers, food, and love songs -- something none of his rare past courtships figured out.)

Yuuri was saved having to actually answer when Viktor’s name was called at the counter -- he’d insisted to pay for both their meals -- and he left to retrieve their food. When he came back, a plate of kale salad was put in front of Yuuri, and spinach ravioli for Viktor. Again, he tried to push up his glasses, only to meet air.

Viktor noticed. “Do you not wear contacts a lot?”

“No. I hate wearing them,” he admitted heavily before he could stop himself. He quickly tried to address Viktor's dumbfounded ' _then why the hell do you have them on?_ ' look. “I -- they’re such a hassle to keep up with. I prefer my glasses, but contacts are-- I mean I _thought_ it'd be better to have them than glasses.” _More sexy_ , or whatever the hell people used to tell him. 

Viktor blinked, staring into Yuuri’s eyes not framed by blue plastic. “Wear them. You should do what makes you comfortable,” he said. He offered a smile. “Besides, glasses are sexy."

Yuuri’s face and ears felt toasty. He chalked it up to the fireplace’s radiating heat.

"What else do you like?"

He watched the twist and twirl and pop of the fire, like dresses fanning out. “Dancing," he said without thinking. "And festivals. I kinda miss the ones in Japan -- they’re so colorful and bright. No one even looked twice when my mom put lipstick on me once. Maybe they thought I was a girl.”

Viktor watched him, listening intently and giving an encouraging smile as Yuuri slowly opened up to him. Even when it turned to random babble at the end, his attention was focused on Yuuri’s words, as if looking away would make him miss an important, mundane detail. It made Yuuri’s palms grow clammy.

“Dancing, huh? What kind? Ballroom? Ice dancing? Break dancing? Pole?”

“ _Oh my god_ \--” Well, _technically_ most of those ; but Yuuri was _not_ ready to explain how he knew any of it to Viktor. Especially the last one. Suffice to say that Phichit had made...interesting friends in college and liked to drag Yuuri out of their dorm on weird adventures.

Viktor hummed around a forkful of ravioli and Yuuri pretended not to be staring intensely at the peek of Viktor’s tongue licking the spinach sauce off his lips. “Dancing is number one on How To Win Viktor Nikiforov’s Heart, you know. ”

“I like dancing,” Yuuri repeated without realizing it. His stomach was doing flips as if starting a wild dance without him. He cleared his throat, scrambling for something else to tell Viktor, anything that might get _him_ talking more instead. He knew just the topic. “I like dogs too. We couldn’t keep one in the inn though, so I’ve never had one.”

“What, really?” Viktor was astonished. “That’s such a shame! Dogs are the best! Oh, I have one, would you like to see?” As Yuuri expected, he was already pulling out his phone and scrolling through his photos.

Yuuri was already familiar with Viktor’s large, fluffy poodle, Makkachin. Pictures of the precious pooch and his adorable antics were all over Viktor’s Instagram. Yuuri had always wanted a dog that was just as sweet and warm as Makkachin looked, and he smiled as Viktor excitedly showed Yuuri each and every photo, telling the stories behind them.

They passed time like that, jumping between stories, drinking their tea, Viktor telling Yuuri that he was free to visit his apartment anytime to play with Makkachin, and enjoying each other’s company. Bit by bit, Yuuri warmed up to Viktor, smiling and laughing freely. For the first time, he felt completely at ease with Viktor.

Viktor gave the last pieces of Yuuri’s salad a look. “Are you still hungry? I was thinking of getting a strawberry cake, but the slices are pretty huge. We can share~”

Yuuri rolled his lips between his teeth. He was _thinking_ about starting a diet again, but… “I’ll have a bite,” he relented.

Viktor cheered, leaping up from his seat. When he came back with the cake, he snapped a picture of its perfect, sugary magnificence, then a selfie of both he and Yuuri biting into the strawberries. Together they tackled the sweet treat, and Yuuri couldn’t even regret it since Viktor was smiling so happily at him. The strawberries felt like they exploded in sweet red fireworks down his throat.

* * *

 

“Just so we’re clear,” Phichit said later, “that really was a date, right?”

“Phichit, please don’t make my new job complicated,” Yuuri said flatly. He was curled up on the loveseat, looking up a new make-up tutorial on YouTube. It was research for the shoot, and Yuuri thought Viktor would look stunning in the style. “It wasn’t a date. It was two co-workers getting to know each other. It was Viktor being nice.” Viktor likely hung out like that with others all the time. What happened at lunch was him just trying to get Yuuri out of his shell, and it worked -- for a few hours. Yuuri was already embarrassed at everything he said (he almost revealed he knew _pole dancing_ ), thinking up way more interesting points of topic way too late.

Phichit raised his eyebrows, peeking over the screen of his phone. “Alright, I’ll let you play this out however you want. All I’m saying,” he grinned, “is that it’s super cute how you’re appearing more and more on Viktor’s Instagram lately.”

Yeah, Yuuri had noticed. Viktor posting the selfie of them sharing the cake had led to him asking what Yuuri’s Instagram and other social media were. All of them were pretty irregularly updated, but it didn’t mean Yuuri didn’t internally fanboy when he got the notification that Viktor Nikiforov was one of his followers now. He got a decent flood of other new followers that were curious about the guy Viktor tagged in his photos, but he was still nowhere near Phichit or Viktor’s level.

Yuuri had already saved their selfie, both of them smiling around their forkfuls of pink cream and cake.

 

 **v-nikiforov** _Eating something sweet with someone sweeter♡♡  #StrawberryCake #TreatYourself #Vkusno!_

* * *

 

As expected of a top model, Viktor’s life was jam-packed with photoshoots, commercials, interviews, and preparation for fashion shows. Within the first three weeks alone, Yuuri was already growing exhausted dashing from site to site with Viktor, sitting him down and applying his make-up, being introduced to new people, familiarizing himself with certain brands and styles to make sure he was doing his job right and well. More often these days, Phichit was coming home to see Yuuri asleep next to piles of fashion magazines.

Yuuri had always known that Viktor was a busy man, but to actually experience it with him was a different game entirely. His nerves had him constantly on edge, which in turn got him into several...accidents.

Knocking over the shelf of Viktor's cologne, for one.

Spilling powder all on the floor and on Viktor's shoes, for another.

Using the wrong eyeliner and telling Viktor with an embarrassed shriek to wipe it off. 

He had apologized at least a hundred times already, ignoring Viktor's hasty reassurances that it was _fine_ , that Yuuri just needed time to adjust. Each apology and screw-up cemented Yuuri's long-standing suspicion that this was all wrong. Him standing in Stammi Vicino, being in front of Viktor Nikiforov's vanity -- it was wrong. He didn't belong here. His inexperience and anxiety were so obvious compared to the confident flair of everyone else. He had no idea how he'd managed to keep a steady hand and clear head the day he put on Viktor's make-up at Minako's. It had probably just been a once-in-a-lifetime kind of confidence.

It wasn't exactly _news_ , but Yuuri was a Hot Mess.

But Viktor made everything look so _easy_. He showed up to Stammi Vicino’s building each day looking nothing less than refreshed and radiant -- and of course, always smiling. Some mornings he picked up how hard Yuuri was trying to keep up, and would surprise him with coffee. It happened enough that Viktor no longer needed to ask what kind Yuuri liked best.

This was one such morning. Yuuri hadn’t had time to fix himself up properly at home, but he managed to arrive early enough that Viktor wasn’t in his dressing room yet. Yuuri took the opportunity to hog the mirror real quick.

His make-up had always been rather simple, but the more he worked with Viktor and got to experiment with colors and styles he so rarely got to do at the salon, Yuuri rekindled his bold curiosity with cosmetics. Slowly but surely, he wanted to try everything again. Today, he wanted to try some shimmering, golden eyeshadow.

He finished up just as Viktor waltzed into the room, two Starbucks coffees in hand. He handed the cinnamon dolce latte dripping with whipped cream to Yuuri, keeping the iced skinny mocha for himself. He’d explained to Yuuri that he had a cat’s tongue that burned easily, but he couldn’t wait for coffee to cool off, so he preferred drinking iced stuff. Yuuri would get self-conscious over how sugary and extra his drink was in comparison, but Viktor apparently thought it was cute how Yuuri licked up the whipped cream from his fingers and told him to enjoy whatever he wanted to.

“Good morning, Yuuri~! You look lovely again today~” Viktor set his bag down and plopped down on the sofa. “Hahh, I don’t feel like working this morning. Or at all. Can’t I just sleep here?” He laid down in a dramatic pose -- raised leg and everything -- and groaned.

“Drink your coffee and you’ll feel better,” Yuuri said, already sipping gratefully at his daily dose of caffeine.

Viktor groaned again in protest. “Nooo, I need something stronger to go on… Give me a sip of yours.”

Yuuri handed the cup over, watching closer than he should have of Viktor wrapping his lips around the straw. He sipped, then lifted the straw up from the cup, licking the whipped cream that stuck to it. Yuuri’s eyes widened at the cream gathering at the seam of Viktor’s lips before a tongue peeked out to lick the mess up.

Viktor smiled as he gave it back. “Mm, that was a lot more refreshing~ Thank you, Yuuri.”

“Uh, n-no problem. Anytime!”

(Yuuri wasn’t sure he could drink his coffee anymore without being acutely aware that he and Viktor just indirectly kissed.

That Viktor’s tongue had been on the straw.

That he was mildly jealous of _whipped cream_.)

Two people tumbled into Viktor’s room in a tangle of arguments suddenly -- one was a laughing Mila, who was hugging over a slender boy. He was scowling, trying to shake her off as he shouted angry things in Russian. Yuuri recognized him immediately as the same boy he’d run into the day he worked with Mila.

“Good morning, Viktor, Yuuri~,” Mila said, interrupting the boy’s rant and waving at the two of them.

“Wow, you two are so rowdy for this early in the morning. And Yura, why aren’t you in school?”

Instead of answering, the boy had gone still. His eyes darted from Viktor to Yuuri, a deep frown on his face. “What the hell? Oi, hag, that’s the same guy that replaced Georgi that one time, isn’t it?”

Mila grinned conspiratorially. “Why yes he is. You haven’t been properly introduced.” She pointed from the boy to Yuuri. “Yuri Plisetsky, meet Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Yu-- _He has my name!?_ ”

Viktor laughed loudly, stirring around the tiny bits of ice in his coffee. “Actually, since he’s older than you, you have _his_ name.”

“I don’t care about that! I was in SV first!” Yuri broke free of Mila’s hold at last and stomped up to Yuuri, nailing him painfully down with the pierce of his glare. “I heard Viktor got some noob as his new make-up artist, but to think it’s the same loser from before. Tch. What’s a fat piggy like you doing in the fashion industry?”

Viktor narrowed his eyes, all amusement gone. “Watch it, Yuri.”

“Forgive him, he’s a brat,” Mila cut in as well, giving Yuuri an apologetic look as she slapped a hand over the teenager's mouth, muffling his rage. “Yuri is a model like me and Viktor, but he’s still trying to break into more professional work at the moment. He’s practically a pure-bred though since his mother was a model too, so he’s been in front of cameras before he was even born.”

Viktor smiled again, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “In short, he looks adorable, but he’s utterly _arrogant_.”

Yuri finally yanked Mila's hand back. “As if you’re one to talk! You wanna go, Viktor?”

Yuuri had been quiet during this whole exchange. He wasn’t really affected by Yuri yelling at him, even if he had directly hit one of Yuuri’s weakest spots in his confidence. He  put his latte down and out of sight.

“Nice to meet you, Yuri. I hope we can get along,” Yuuri said, offering a small smile.

“Haah? What’s that? You talk funny.”

“It’s called being _polite_ , Yura. You should take notes from the Greater Of Two Yuris.” Viktor’s words got Mila to snicker behind her hand. “Speaking of taking notes, I’m asking again why aren’t you in school? Even models should take their academics seriously. It would be a shame if you fell into the cliche of being all beauty and no brains.”

Yuri scoffed through his teeth. “I’m _plenty_ smarter than you, old man. Hurry up and retire already! _You_ were supposed to be the one training the new models but you’re still here being a spotlight hog!”

The accusations rolled right off of Viktor, who continued to just lay on the sofa. “I can’t help it if I’m in high demand. That’s what it means to have a legendary name in this industry, after all.”

Yuri huffed, finally seeming to have enough. “Whatever! I’ll de-throne you as Stammi Vicino’s top model one day, so watch it!” He declared it loudly before stomping out of the room.

“How charming,” Yuuri muttered. Both Viktor and Mila gave vague noises of agreement.

Then, echoing Viktor’s sentiments from before, Mila said, “He’ll grow on you. He acts tough, but he’s a little lame softie deep down.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he believed it yet or not, considering everyone else he’d run into since working with Viktor. At the moment, only Mila and Viktor were his safe spaces -- he supposed Georgi counted too, since Yuuri had found him to be an overall good, if not strange and melodramatic, person. He still hoped he could get along with Yuri, though getting through those seven levels of teen angst might take time.

 _Fashion and modeling_ , Yuuri thought, letting Viktor steal sips of his latte again. _What a high-strung industry_.

“Also -- he has weird fashion taste for a model,” Yuuri added, the loud animal print flashing behind his eyes blindingly.

Mila burst out in loud, shrieking laughter that brought tears to her eyes and Viktor nearly choked on Yuuri’s coffee.

* * *

 January passed in the blink of an eye and February was well settled in.

On Valentine’s Day, Viktor was covered in kiss marks.

He’d been hired to advertise a make-up brand’s new lipsticks, and instead of simply applying it on his lips, an idea was pitched for Viktor to wear it _all over his skin_ . In the spirit of the Valentine’s holiday, the director of the shoot thought Viktor being covered in kisses was a brilliant idea. Viktor was excited about it too -- _enthusiastic_ , really.

Before anyone knew it, a game had exploded in the studio, models and photographers and make-up artists all dashing around wearing a shade of lipstick and smooching each other’s faces. For about half an hour, it was pure chaos as laughter erupted between dressing rooms.

Yuuri, terrified, was currently hiding in one of them.

That was, until he was found.

“Yuuri~!” exclaimed Viktor. His lavender dress shirt that clung flatteringly to his lean body was partially unbuttoned, showing off the kiss marks that were all over his collar as well as his cheeks and forehead and chin. His skin was a full bouquet of pinks and reds, purples and oranges. Yuuri’s cheeks burned at the clear display of intimacy that was imprinted on his body. He might’ve looked silly if he didn’t look completely and wholly _erotic_.

“H-Hi,” he said, shrinking further against the wall. “Wow, uh, you have quite the collection already.”

“I’m pretty sure I have the most kisses~,” Viktor bragged with a lilt. He sounded almost tipsy, like each kiss was a shot of sweet vodka into his bloodstream. (Yuuri held his breath.) Yuuri watched the languid spread of his smile, noticing how the lipstick he’d put on Viktor before was still quite vibrant in shade. Either the lipstick really was doing its job, or Viktor hadn’t really kissed anyone. (He exhaled.)

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor said in that needy whine Yuuri was becoming accustomed to hearing, “why aren’t you out there too? You’re not even wearing any lipstick.” He sauntered over, and there was no place for Yuuri to go. He just accepted his fate as Viktor brought a hand up to prop against the wall as he peered down at Yuuri with sparkling freshwater eyes.

The heat of Yuuri’s blush spread to his chest and ears. “Th-that, um… I’m not really comfortable with that kind of thing, it’s -- it’s too much for me to handle, haha…” He kind of had no idea why he was here today if his work was being done by other people -- by their _lips_ all over Viktor’s face. 

" _Wherever I go, whatever I'm wearing, I want only you to touch my face_." That was what Viktor had said. Yuuri had no idea why he was here.

Viktor’s expression sobered up, and he put his hand down. “Oh, I see. Then -- what if we did it just between us?” He offered Yuuri a soft smile. “You _are_ my make-up artist, after all. My look isn’t complete without your finishing touch.”

Oh sure, _now_ that was relevant. Yuuri pushed his glasses up -- he got to wearing them again, even when he continued to slick his hair back -- and rolled his eyes. “You just want to be able to say everyone kissed you.”

“Not trueee.” Viktor pursed his lips. “Yuuri, are you going to play hard to get again?”

Yuuri tried not to laugh. “Maybe. But if you want a kiss from me, you’ve gotta work for it.”

A beat of silence followed, where the bustle and laughter of the others chasing each other with kisses in the studio could be heard. Yuuri immediately started to break out in a sweat, utterly mortified _yet again_ that he said the wrong thing -- it was so hard to tell what counted as simply playful or flatout flirting with Viktor. He was never good at calculating the difference. But -- but there was no reason _he_ should be the one embarrassed about crossing a line or not.

 _Viktor_ had been the one to go around asking for a kiss!

 _He_ was the one standing so close to Yuuri!

 _He_ was the one -- gently tracing Yuuri’s cheek…

 _Wait_...

Silver eyelashes fluttered as Viktor's gaze slid down Yuuri’s face. The scent of mint brushed over Yuuri’s skin, enamoring his senses. There was no heat to seize Yuuri into place, no tension to make his heart quiver in anxiety -- yet the air around them was still thinly veiled in a word, a weightless question.

_Hold on here--_

Viktor waited, giving Yuuri a chance to stop this and pull back if he wanted. After years of tripping and stumbling through past tangos, Yuuri had become rather good at pulling back, at denying, at hiding away to gather himself again. It was Yuuri's instinct to put up walls. He could laugh and wave it all away, and Viktor would do the same. That was how the game of human interaction worked, and Yuuri had only ever played it one way.

Yuuri moved his hands, hovering them between their bodies. Even Yuuri didn't change his mind until the last possible second, searching for Viktor’s hands for support. As soon as their fingertips brushed, Viktor laced their fingers together, releasing a small, relieved breath over Yuuri’s skin. He was still so close.

And then Viktor leaned in, pressing his lips softly onto the bottom of Yuuri’s cheek, mere centimeters from the corner of his mouth.

Just when Yuuri thought he might lose his breath, Viktor blew a raspberry into the kiss, tickling Yuuri's skin. Yuuri _shrieked_ , surprised but laughing, trying to wriggle away. Viktor did another raspberry kiss on Yuuri's other cheek, grinning as he pulled loud, breathless laughter from his lungs.

"V- _Viktor_ \--! Ahaha, what-- What are you _doing_ , hahaha, that-- It tickles, stop it!"

When Viktor finally pulled back, Yuuri’s skin tinged and danced where he’d been touched. His smile made his sides and cheeks ache. 

“I can do it again if you don’t want anyone else’s kisses,” Viktor said with a stupid grin. “I have plenty of lipstick left~”

Yuuri’s heart fluttered, but he shook his head. “I think I'm fine with these. Uh -- did you want me to put on some lipstick and…?”

Viktor rocked their linked hands back and forth, looking up at Yuuri through his lashes. “Nope. You’re right. I’ll try hard to earn that kiss from you,” he said with a wink. “Sometime when it won’t just be one of many conquests.”

When the shoot started and the flashes spilled over Viktor’s face, his lips spread in a flirtatious smile, Yuuri thought about what kind of state his heart would have to be in to leave a stain of lipstick on Viktor’s skin.

But Viktor was right. Yuuri wanted to know what it was like when he wasn’t simply one of a million. The thought that Viktor had been considerate of his feelings -- whatever they were -- made him happy, and slightly jittery with some kind of anticipation. Whatever it was, it embraced his heart tightly.

At that moment, Viktor glanced over at him. He smiled -- wide and affectionate -- and blew Yuuri a kiss. The cameras went off excitedly, wanting to capture that intimate gesture between Viktor and his faceless lover.

Anyone who saw the advertisement would picture the kiss being for them.

* * *

When he got home that night, Phichit exclaimed loudly over the kiss marks on Yuuri’s cheeks, saying things like, “I knew it, I KNEW it, I _totally_ called that something like this would happen! Look at you boldly going around, showing off to the world the kisses that _Viktor Nikiforov_ gave you! Best Valentine’s ever, am I right~?” He patted the empty spot on the sofa. “Come on, sit down, give me details! I must know _everything_ .”

He’d be disappointed to know that it had all been a part of a game played around at the photoshoot, but Yuuri wasn’t going to burst his bubble quite yet. Yuuri was still spellbound by the fantasy himself.

“Phichit,” Yuuri said in a daze. “I don’t think I can wash my face ever again.”

While his best friend wholly empathized, he suggested selfies as documentation to be a lot more hygienic.

 

That night Yuuri dreamed about Viktor’s kiss marks blooming all over his skin -- a shimmering red lipstick that exploded into bright rose petals soft like Viktor’s fingertips skating over his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to spend tomorrow eating chocolate, drinking wine, and re-watching for the 20th time the dumb beautiful love story on ice that is Viktuuri.
> 
> Twitter, @fuwajellyfish


	5. the more i wanna catch your eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. It's just about 11pm and I've finally wrapped up this chapter. Thank you everyone for your patience, I know it's been two weeks now since last update OTL I've just been extremely busy with work and also writing my new Otayuri series! (A flower shop AU one, not the spin-off model AU one I was telling y'all about.) This chapter is a little bit longer, so there's more to enjoy!
> 
> By the way, the name for Chris' bf is something I borrowed from what Kubo and JPN fandom playfully call him. Think of him as half-Swiss, half-Japanese?? Lol...
> 
> Chapter title is from "Kiss My Lips" by BoA

“True love and he kisses you the way he kissed dozens of other people that day? Sounds like a creep to me.”

The four of them were at the movies -- Yuuko and Takeshi inviting Yuuri and Phichit in what was playfully dubbed as a double-date while the triplets were being babysat by Minako. Phichit played the part of a boyfriend well, and Yuuri accepted all of his antics with a laugh.

And then he had, of course, brought up Viktor -- namely, didn’t Yuuri wish _he_ was here to double-date with Yuuko and Takeshi instead?

Yuuri was lucky that he was so focused on his game of DDR with Yuuko, otherwise he might’ve stopped right then and there to sink to the floor. But the flashing lights and electric pulse of the song were enough to distract him, and he only emitted a breathless, “Huh? What’s that?” at Takeshi’s words. The song ended with both he and Yuuko stomping their feet down on the right and left arrows at the same time (literally stomp; the damn buttons were barely functional after years of use).

Yuuko used the pause between songs to twirl around and whap at her husband’s arm. Phichit apparently had the same idea and knocked at Takeshi’s other arm. He jolted at their joined attack.

“ _Ow_!?”

“Takeshi, that’s so mean!” Yuuko pursed her lips. “Don’t make it sound like Viktor was just playing with Yuuri!”

“Are you telling me that that’s not what really went down? Yuuri said it himself! Viktor treated it like it was nothing to him.” Takeshi rubbed at his arms, taking a turn to glare at each Yuuko and Phichit.

The next song started up, giving Yuuko only time to give a mighty huff as she started to dance alongside Yuuri. Yuuri himself was trying to ignore the conversation -- it was embarrassing enough to have to retell the kissing story after Yuuko demanded to know the truth, offended that she had to learn of this event via a vague, caps-lock filled text from Phichit.

“I think he was being considerate,” Phichit defended, speaking the words Yuuri himself had suspected at the time of those kisses and lightness of Viktor’s laughter. “He was trying to make Yuuri not feel too tense with him.”

Takeshi made a sound that showed he wasn’t convinced. “Viktor’s one of the most eligible bachelors out there. He always surrounded by glamorous and important people, and never seems to pay any mind what other people think. He knows he’s unattainable and attractive so he treats everyone the same.”

 _So why would he ever notice_ you? seemed to be the unspoken line. Yuuri’s lungs puffed out the last bits of his oxygen, leaving his chest in a dull ache as he missed several beats.

“Bad! Miss! Bad!”

Well, it wasn’t like Takeshi’s comments were unfounded. Viktor could have his pick of anyone. Yuuri didn’t have any doubts that people threw themselves at him all the time, out of view from the cameras. True, Yuuri had yet to catch Viktor in any scandalous behavior like that, but it wasn’t like he was attached to Viktor 24/7. The one time Viktor did bring up the topic of ex-lovers, Yuuri nearly poked his eye out with the mascara brush from shock.

Needless to say, the conversation ended up going nowhere.

Anyway -- now that Yuuri thought about it, of course he would be treated the same as everyone else. Kissing Yuuri obviously hadn’t been special, but neither had there been any meaning in Viktor treating him with consideration or not letting Yuuri kiss him too.

After all, it had all just been a game.

Yuuri got a “game over” before he could try to recover the beat of the song, his feet stumbling over the steps as the game exclaimed in disappointment at his loss. Yuuko looked over at him, worry in her eyes. He forced a laugh.

“Uh, I just thought the movie started by now. Let’s go grab some seats before it gets full.”

No one looked convinced. That was Yuuri’s one fault, how he never managed to fool anyone. But by now, his friends knew not to call him out on it, since he would never admit to the things that really bothered him. Trying to get Yuuri to confront his anxieties was like pulling teeth.

To distract him, Phichit offered Yuuri some popcorn he’d been eating and chatted his ear off, and Yuuri noticed out of the corner of his eye how Yuuko whapped her husband again.

* * *

Against Phichit’s wishes, Yuuri swallowed not one but two glasses of wine before going to work that day. He thought he hid it pretty well, until Great Detective Phichit took a whiff at Yuuri’s breath inside the car.

“Yuuri!”

“What? I’m fine! I just...wanted something to loosen up for the big day today!”

Phichit didn’t look relieved to know this information, sitting up straight as he steered through the streets. “Yuuri,” he said meaningfully, “we’ve talked about this. Alcohol is not a magic cure for anxiety.”

“Don’t make me sound like an alcoholic,” Yuuri said with a deep sigh. “When was even the last time you saw me drunk?”

“Oh, I have photo receipts if you want them,” Phichit said without missing a beat. He went so far as to hold his phone out for Yuuri to dig up the evidence himself.

Yuuri only lightly shoved at his friend, definitely not needing to see any photos of Yuuri embarrassing himself; that was the opposite thing he needed today. What he drank was just enough to make him feel relaxed. Sometimes Yuuri needed the boost. It wasn’t like Phichit was the type of person who needed his raging nerves settled every time his comfort zone was breached upon.

That was Yuuri’s defense, and he stood by it as he managed to give Viktor a huge smile when he stepped into his dressing room. “Morning, Viktor!” he said, perhaps a note too louder than he intended.

Viktor glanced up from his phone -- likely messaging away with Yakov to make sure everything would be going smoothly at the venue they’d be off too in the next few minutes. He seemed surprised that Yuuri was so chipper without offering him his whipped cream-topped coffee yet.

“Oh? Someone is happy this morning.” Viktor smiled, pleased. He reached out to trace the curve of Yuuri’s cheek, tilting his head up by tapping under his chin. “Ready to head out? The models and staff for the other brands should be on their way too.”

“And you want to get there before them?” Yuuri asked with a knowing laugh.

“Well, today _is_ a day of competitions.” Viktor gave him a wink as he slipped on his maroon jacket with the shimmering golden trim. “And I plan to beat them at every turn.”

Yuuri had no idea if the blush filling his cheeks was the usual effect of being near Viktor, or the wine finally swimming shallowly through his head.

They both left in the same sleek sedan gleaming in pristine white with silver accents, one of three that the other models, designers, and artists were taking. Yuuri quickly ducked his head when he slipped into the velvet seats after Viktor, chagrined that his plain self was entering such a clearly high-end vehicle. Sure, he done his best to hide himself behind dark-red lipstick and glittering nude eyeshadow, but he wasn’t sure he still looked the part to be on his way to a ballroom with three fashion brands at once.

Then again, Seung Gil was in the car too, but seemed perfectly content to remain in no make-up and a form-fitting black turtleneck. Well, the casual look worked for him; he was still incredibly handsome.

Viktor, who sat between them, leaned toward Yuuri as the car started moving. “You look lovely, Yuuri.”

The tinted windows hopefully didn’t let in enough light for Viktor to see his embarrassed smile. He turned away. “You say that literally every day.” But it did make Yuuri happy to hear it, his heart doing somersaults in anticipation just to hear Viktor say it. He might not believe him all the time, but it still made his insides melt.

Well, at least it _did_ , until Takeshi’s words rang in his head.

Viktor carried on, oblivious to his thoughts. “Oh, you’re right, I should spice it up. You look _beautiful_ , Yuuri. Exquisite, even. Divine. You look enchanting and-- Wait, hold on.”

Yuuri looked over and had to press his lips together to hold back what was undoubtedly a loud burst of laughter. “Viktor. Are you opening up Google?” He glanced at the screen where Viktor was typing “synonyms for lovely” into the search bar.

“Leave me be, Yuuri, English isn’t my first language! ...Oh. Aha, _here_ we are! Yuuri,” Viktor glanced up at him through his long, silver lashes, his voice lowering to that particular velvety allure that thickened his accent, “you look utterly _ravishing_.”

It was clear now. Viktor Nikiforov was stronger than alcohol. He should make his own vodka line. Or maybe he should be hired for a commercial. Would alcohol companies use male models to advertise? They would know what they were missing out on as soon as they watched the seductive bob of Viktor’s Adam’s apple when he took a swig, or the push of his tongue chasing the lingering drops of alcohol on his lips...

...Oh god, these were definitely buzzed thoughts.

Yuuri cleared his throat, shuffling in his seat. “I’d probably be more flattered if you didn’t just _Google_ how to compliment me,” he said playfully.

“You make it hard to sweep you off your feet, Yuuri Katsuki. But I’m bad at giving up.” Viktor stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles.

Seung Gil sighed in exasperation.

* * *

The SYNTH Ballroom was large, polished, and blindingly illuminated from the inside in white and gold. White roses burst from the corners and petunias with their tissue paper-thin petals swayed every time someone walked past them. Yuuri got a glimpse of the runway stage being finalized in its set-up and some of the seats around it already being filled up with guests, their chatter buzzing through the hall. Yuuri knew a majority of them were fashion sponsors that had come to see what the three brands were offering in their lines -- by the end of the day, they’d know who had invested in the brands to sell at their stores or advertise via their companies.

Needless to say, expectations were high from everyone in Stammi Vicino that they earn the most sponsors. Of course, the same could be said for the other two brands showing up -- Intoxicated and LE ROY. Before they knew it, a personal competition had been built between the three brands, particularly their top models.

A table of refreshments stood off to the side, including flutes of golden champagne. The server behind the table smiled when Yuuri, Viktor, and Seung Gil passed.

“Champagne, sirs?”

Seung Gil held up a declining hand and kept heading for the dressing rooms at the other end of the ballroom. Viktor, however, put a flute in his and Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri didn’t complain; he could feel the wine wearing off and wanted every bit of help he could get in combating the nerves twisting his stomach in tight knots.

The champagne was gone from Yuuri’s crystal-clear glass in seconds, and he was in the middle of debating another when Viktor’s name was called from behind them.

Yuuri saw the man’s hand caress the side of Viktor’s waist before sliding down his hip before he actually glanced up to his face. His looks were a unique combination of sweet and sensual, his eyes holding a seductive glimmer while his red-painted lips played a charming smile.

“Chris,” Viktor said, unperturbed by the hand touching him. “Looks like I got here first.”

“Yes, I know _well_ your penchant for coming early,” Chris said with a smirk. “Starting the party without me though? I won’t forgive you that easily.” He reached between Viktor and Yuuri and delicately plucked a flute of champagne of his own.

“Careful, Chris. What would Masumi do if he saw that in your hand before the show even started?”

“Punish me well, I hope,” Chris said with a wink, taking a sip of his drink. “Wish we had something stronger though. Oh well. Anyway, who is this cutie here with you?”

Viktor pulled Yuuri in for a one-armed hug, pressing his cheek into his hair. “This is _Yuuri Katsuki_ ,” he said in a gushing tone, “my new make-up artist~”

Chris examined Yuuri more closely, probably trying to dig up nonexistent places he might’ve seen him or at least heard his name. He finally gave up, but still gave him a smile. “A pleasure,” he said, drawing out the words in a way that sent heat up Yuuri’s spine. “I’m Christophe Giacometti.”

Although Yuuri was a Viktor Nikiforov -- and by extension, Stammi Vicino -- fan, he still had some familiarity for the man in front of him. Chris was the top male model for Intoxicated, a brand known for its alluring clothing and lines of lingerie for all genders. Yuuri was always too embarrassed to stare at Chris and other Intoxicated models wear such revealing clothing to pay much attention to the brand. Minako, on the other hand, was a _passionate_ supporter and collected spreads of Chris the same way Yuuri collected ones with Viktor. She was going to flip her lid when Yuuri told her about meeting him.

Almost as soon as they shook hands, another man approached them, a lovely young lady attached to his arm. The wide grin on his face immediately won against Viktor’s in terms of confidence, the gait of his walk not holding a care in the world.

“What’s this, did everyone need a dose of liquid courage before the big show today? Not that I blame you in the least! I bet you’re feeling the heat being on the same runway as LE ROY.”

“I’m feeling quite cool, thank you,” Viktor said, unamused.

Chris sighed, pressing a palm against his cheek. “Oh, you remain to be such a precious little boy, laying in the same bed as me and Viktor.”

Yuuri had finally managed to get his hands on a second flute of champagne and was looking back and forth at all the people gathered in front of the table behind the rim of the glass. Jean-Jacques Leroy was the final competitor in the runway show, being the top male model for the brand LE ROY. Some people believed that his popularity was due to the fact that the company was owned by his family, but anyone who’d seen him in magazines and shows knew he had a strong and distinct flair that none could resist.

“Looks like you’re still too much of spring chicken. You got here last,” Chris said. He glanced past them and waved a man with middle-parted brown hair over.

JJ wasn’t affected by the jab in the slightest, actually giving out a booming laugh. “The most anticipated model has to make the last entrance. Gotta keep the audience on their toes, after all! Isn’t that right, Isabella?”

The young woman met JJ’s confidence with an equally radiant smile. “Your style is unstoppable, JJ~”

JJ preened, then cocked his head in a challenging manner, looking straight at Viktor. “Hear that? Hope Stammi Vicino is ready to put up a fight, Viktor.”

Viktor leaned on Yuuri again, like standing around here with such a strong-willed aura was suddenly tiring. He squinted at JJ.

“I’m sorry, I swear I don’t remember your name.”

Yuuri nearly choked on his drink and Chris tutted. JJ remained unaffected and smiling, even while Isabella pressed her lips tightly together.

The man that Chris had waved over arrived, shaking his arm. “Chris, what are you doing over here? We have to get you ready for the show!”

“Yes, of course, my sweet.” Chris pecked his cheek, leaving a mark of lipstick on his skin. The man, that Yuuri could only assume was Masumi, didn’t make a move to wipe it off. “So all the top models and their make-up artists have arrived here, how perfect~”

Inspiration flashed in JJ’s eyes. “Aha, I see what this is then!” He encircled an arm around Isabella’s waist, holding her closer. “This _is_ perfect. Me and my beautiful fiance, Christophe and his dear boyfriend -- and Viktor with his boyfriend as well. Gentlemen, this won’t just be a competition to prove who is the top brand and model, this will also be a testament of love!”

The empty glass in Yuuri’s hand nearly fell to the floor. He backed himself out of Viktor’s one-armed embrace, waving his hands. “Oh no, w-wait, I’m--”

“It’s decided!” JJ led him and Isabella along to the dressing rooms, still wearing a winning smile. “Let’s see who has the strongest power of love! I’m counting on a good fight -- not that it’ll do you much good. Let’s go, Bells~”

Chris and Masumi exchanged amused looks and started to walk off as well. “Good luck to you and your cutie _boyfriend_ , Viktor~,” Chris lilted, waggling his fingers in their direction. “I look forward to seeing you on the runway.”

When it was just himself and Viktor once again, Yuuri whirled around, gripping onto the table. He wondered if he could pass off the _massive_ blush on his face as it being warm in the ballroom, that he applied too much rouge to his cheeks, that he was about to down at least another ten glasses of champagne if he couldn’t just find the bottle itself. Mistakes like that tended to happen when Yuuri was nervous -- or, say, when he heard someone suddenly call him _Viktor Nikiforov’s boyfriend_.

This hot and confused state persisted even in the dressing room, when the room spun with activity -- Seung Gil passing along one of the many outfits hung on a rack to Viktor and helping him into it. Yuuri was too out of it to even really notice Viktor stripping off his clothes and wrapping himself up again in an off-the-shoulder shirt, the seam down the middle a trail of ruffles and the long sleeves made of overflowing organza. Cornflower blue pants were pulled up his long, toned legs, a matching half-skirt fluttering down his right thigh. T-bar heels strapped to his feet completed the outfit.

Yuuri was still slightly dizzy before he resurfaced from his overthinking at last -- only to be completely stupefied once more by Viktor’s appearance. The outfit reminded him of something he used to wear a lot a few years back, when his silver hair had been longer and his photoshoots always played upon his androgynous features.

Now that he was older, with broader shoulders and shorter hair and had grown into the strong set of his jaw, Yuuri saw he still contained every ounce of that grace and elegant perfection he’d had in his younger days. His thin hips swayed with each step he took in the heels, the delicate material of the skirt and sleeves whispering over his lithe, muscled body. The clothes were like a physical manifestation of Viktor’s own charm and sensuality, designed especially for him.

Yuuri made a mental note to thank Seung Gil’s genius later.

A knock came at the door, Yakov appearing not a moment later. “Vitya, stop dawdling! You’ve got less than an hour and Mila and Sara are already wrapping up!”

“ _Da_. Have faith in my Yuuri, we have something to prove now~”

The shock from earlier came back to assault Yuuri’s poor heart once more. When Yakov left in a huff, followed by Seung Gil, Yuuri went to his place at the vanity and put down his make-up bag.

“We probably should have corrected JJ back there. He got way too pumped about another competition.”

“Oh, what’s the harm? It’s not like he’ll go gossiping to anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Viktor sat down in front of the vanity, crossing his thighs. “My cutie boyfriend Yuuri. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think~? I really enjoy thinking of us doing our best on the runway to prove our love~”

Would a normal person play along with this? It would probably be counted as flirting then, wouldn’t it? But Yuuri had already decided he had attempted enough of _that_ in his lifetime.

Especially with Viktor.

 _Shame on you, Yuuri. You shouldn’t be flirting with Viktor anyway. You’re supposed to flirt with people you’re interested in -- and true, you think Viktor is beautiful, a masterpiece, a man you’ve always wanted to touch and surprise, but he’s also_ unattainable _. Takeshi said it himself. Viktor treats everyone the same._

 _You_ could _play the part of his boyfriend. But so could any other man._

“Chris is right,” Yuuri muttered out loud, brushing back Viktor’s hair (Viktor hated this part, claiming to not like having his high forehead exposed, which Yuuri thought about placing a kiss on more than once to prove how much he loved it) and spreading the primer and foundation. “We should’ve had something stronger.”

“Don’t be nervous, _zvyozdochka_ ,” Viktor encouraged him as he tilted his head back, letting him fall into Yuuri’s working hands. “Just do what you always do. I trust your instincts.”

 _How do you always manage to sound so sure of yourself? If you believe in me so much, I really will want to fight for you and prove we’re better together than the rest of them_. Yuuri released a calming breath, realizing too late how his champagne breath brushed over Viktor’s face. He made a high-pitched distressed sound. Viktor laughed from the back of his throat and blew in his face in turn.

“Let’s go.”

Seung Gil had shown Yuuri the outfits a week before the event, giving Yuuri time to plan out a look accordingly and practice it on himself. It had been embarrassing when Phichit caught him a few times in front of the mirror and insisted on making progress pictures, raining down compliments on the make-up he used, and bemoaning the fact that he wouldn’t be covering the event.

“I can’t help but notice you like putting LeDNiK’s products on me,” Viktor commented, eyes closed as Yuuri brushed eyeshadow over his pale lids.

“Oh. Well, I’ve always been a fan of it. I’m a sucker for glitter, really,” Yuuri admitted with a small laugh. “And that’s what LeDNiK specializes in, with all their shimmering colors of eye and lip make-up. I always thought it was too glamorous for me though so I never tried it. But now that I’m working with you, I had an excuse to stock up on their products.”

“Why do you think it’s too glamorous? You should definitely try it if you think it’s beautiful -- that’s the policy of a model.”

“I’m a regular human being and not a model though,” Yuuri pointed out. “Stop frowning now, you’ll mess me up.” If Viktor’s expressions didn’t do it, Yuuri’s shaking hands sure would. He already smudged too much eyeshadow on and cursed under his breath in Japanese as he reached for a wipe.

The shimmering blue ran in a streak over Viktor’s eye, like the spray of water, when he rubbed the wipe against it. Yuuri stared at the smudge, trying to visualize how Viktor would look with more of this effect spilling over his face. It wouldn’t ruin the look Yuuri had in mind, he’d just have to modify it a bit, maybe forgo the little silver rhinestones on Viktor’s eyebrows -- oh, what if he put them around the outer corner of his eyes instead?

Viktor had peeked one eye open. “Oh, there’s that look in your eyes. Yuuri~ You’re getting me excited.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but preen a bit at Viktor’s anticipation. He ducked his head to hide a smile. “Just stay still.” Yuuri tried to control the shake of his hands as he finished up the eye make-up and spread some glittering Midnight City Blue lipstick on Viktor’s smiling lips. He could remember what Viktor had said to him at Minako’s salon, that such a dark, mysterious shade of blue would suit him. He wondered how Viktor would react if he really did start making himself up as a glamorous, sparkling spectacle just like him.

_I started wearing make-up because it made me feel pretty. When I got anxious, it made me happy to stand in front of the mirror and smooth the lipstick on my lips, to bat my eyelashes brushed with mascara at my reflection. It gave me confidence, even if in secret at first._

_I’d watch you on runways, Viktor, and imagine what it’d be like to draw all the light and color in the room. To be someone not me, like an actor preparing to take the stage, like a seductive dancer greeting the audience with an alluring smile_.

With how Yuuri was now though, he was content taking the back seat, and using all his skills in cosmetics to adorn someone else, to transform them into a spectacle instead of himself. Painting Viktor’s face now, Yuuri didn’t feel envy that Viktor could publicly exhibit such extravagance and exquisiteness where Yuuri just had locked bathroom doors and late closing nights at the salon.

_Even if I am just another accessory for you to wear with your designer clothes..._

_From the bottom of my heart -- I want to make you beautiful_.

Viktor got up from his chair when Yuuri was done, and stared at himself in the mirror. It had become something of ritual, but Yuuri never stopped stressing and fretting those first few seconds when Viktor would simply _stare_ , as if drinking himself in, savoring a taste, trying to discern the motivation and feeling behind the artwork Yuuri would make of his face.

Yuuri had covered Viktor’s right eye not veiled by his silvery bangs with literal splashes of blue -- midnight and cobalt, sapphire with teal highlights -- swirled in gradients in the form of water spraying out over his cheekbone and nose and eyebrow, a dynamic movement frozen right on his face. The dark shades emphasized the intensity of Viktor’s own blue eyes, clear and wintry, refreshing and striking, making Yuuri’s knees tremble when Viktor glanced at him. The tiny crystal rhinestones dotting around the outside corner of his eyes twinkled endlessly in the light.

Viktor Nikiforov was dazzling. Enchanting. Otherworldly.

What had Viktor said in the car? _Ravishing_.

Yuuri dropped his gaze to the glitter on Viktor’s lips, and he realized Viktor was right -- Yuuri did want to wear the lipstick too.

He just wondered if Viktor was willing to apply it on him via a kiss.

“It’s their new waterproof line,” Yuuri found a voice to start explaining, nodding to the jars of cremes. “And with all the blue you were going to wear, I just -- I thought you’d like it. If it’s too much though, you, um -- better tell me now, so I can clean it up before Yakov comes back and--”

Viktor reached out as if strung along by something other than himself. He pressed a fingertip to Yuuri’s lips.

“Yuuri.” Viktor smiled as he shaped out his name. There seemed to be no follow up for it, just him wanting to say his name, a weight to it that Yuuri couldn’t quite identify. Viktor rubbed his fingertip lightly over Yuuri’s lips, the pressure tingling electric shocks through his bloodstream and making the corners of his vision spin.

“I told you, _zvyozdochka_ ,” Viktor said. “Trust in your instincts.”

* * *

Seeing coverage of a runway show through a screen was immensely different from being up close and personal to one -- so close that the lights were blinding Yuuri every time they bounced off the floor and the powerful R&B beats from the speakers thumped against his sternum.

He unfortunately wasn’t in the best position to view the models strutting down the runway, since he was behind the scenes with the rest of the staff. He tried to keep as small as possible, jerking his body left and right to get out of the way of the bustle and excitement. From a carefully-chosen corner, he watched Sara exit the runway, and Mila start walking up to take her place.

Of course, she spotted Yuuri, and waved excitedly at him. He smiled and mouthed a “good luck!” under the music and cheers that awaited her.

He caught glimpses of models for the other two brands as well, and the differences in their styles were obvious when standing together. Although Yuuri had a bias for Stammi Vicino’s kaleidoscope glamour of surprises, there was a clear reason that Intoxicated’s seductive satin pieces and LE ROY’s bold, vibrant style were on the same runway. Golden suits, trailing lacy bows, fluttering blue, heels and gloves and lipstick -- it was an endless stream of fireworks and extravagance. Yuuri got dizzy just staring at them.

He wasn’t at all surprised when Chris strutted out with large sways of his hips, posing as if an invisible pole were present for him to dance upon, all spread thighs and splaying his hands over his body. A few photographers might have fainted, some audience members vigorously fanning themselves with program booklets. Yuuri had to glance away, blushing up to his ears.

JJ walked on the runway like a king making his way to his throne, head held high, his smile without question the largest of the other models. He raised a greeting hand to the audience and posed with dramatic movements. The music was loud, so Yuuri couldn’t be sure, but he could _swear_ he heard him yell something like, “IT’S JJ STYLE!!”

Viktor, of course, managed to find him with his specialized Yuuri Radar. He reached out for his bicep and pulled him close enough that his breath tickled against Yuuri’s ear. The rest of the world slowed down, the music’s pulse seizing Yuuri’s heart.

“I’m about to go on, Yuuri,” Viktor murmured. “I’ll strut down that runway like I own it, and make sure everyone is looking at me when I fight to prove our love is the strongest.”

“But -- Viktor, we’re not… You don’t…” Yuuri’s words were useless, his voice losing to the blood rushing in his ears, the heat of Viktor’s breath, even while he held onto Viktor’s wrist to keep him close. “Our love isn’t...like theirs…”

Viktor smiled, eyes sparkling a thousand times brighter than the rhinestones. “Exactly. Muse and artist. Model and cosmetician. ...Friends. Anything and everything else, I’ll lay it bare to everyone. That’s what a model does, after all. Wish me luck, _zvyozdochka.”_

For a moment, Yuuri thought Viktor might kiss him, nuzzle into his hair, draw nearer in some intimate way that would keep Yuuri tethered together. But Yakov yelled for Viktor to go on, and Viktor pulled back. Instead of the spell between them breaking, it stretched on in the empty space, connecting them with the flashing lights of the cameras greeting Viktor when he stepped onto the runway.

Yuuri could only see from the back, but he could see how Viktor walked and carried himself slowly metamorphosed the further out he stepped onto the stunning white strip. The lights played upon his body, vying to dance with him. The sway of his hips were hypnotic, each step in his heels commanding more stares to him. Despite the other models cycling through the runway, Viktor was the grandest vision that graced their presence.

So lost was Yuuri watching Viktor’s strut then cycle of striking poses, he didn’t notice Mila had sidled up to him.

“Oho,” she said, as if uncovering something juicy. Her voice was loud to compensate for the noise. “Hmm, see something you like, Yuuri?”

“Mila.” Yuuri was too dazed to want to tear his attention from Viktor’s walk. “That’s… I mean, he’s…”

Mila made a humming sound like she understood. “Everyone throws themselves on their knees when they see Viktor on the runway. He’s just that good.” Mila leaned against Yuuri, rustling the overflowing bouquet of chiffon on her body. “Because Viktor isn’t just a doll like most models. He doesn’t let himself get dressed up, look fierce in front of the camera and let that be the end of it. He really makes the look a part of him, y’know? Like he’s trying to tell a story. I guess in that way, you can think of him more like an actor than a model.”

When Viktor spun back around to exit the runway, his half-skirt flared out, momentarily giving the illusion of icy water lapping at his toned thighs. Even turned from the cameras, Viktor’s expression was still full of emotion, his smile confident and assured, his gait alluring -- his eyes were full of daydreams, as if thinking of something, the reason pulling him forward on his runway.

It was close to that vulnerable expression that one time, but not quite.

“You might be right about that, Mila.”

* * *

When the show was over, everyone had come to gather at the refreshments table once more. Yuuri was regretfully steering clear of the champagne, and was instead embarrassing himself by stuffing five pastries in his face in the span of two minutes.

“Wow, Yuuri, you’re a stress-eater?” Viktor said with an impressed laugh.

Well, Yuuri’s body sure didn’t have this doughy-ness to it from doing sit-ups every day. Yuuri stressed. A lot. And food and his mother’s kitchen just happened to be really, unfortunately, accessible for him. Yuuri tried to scowl at Viktor, but it was probably useless when sugar was stuck to the corners of his lips.

Viktor’s laugh was full of endearment as he swiped it off with his finger. “Don’t look so mad, I think it’s cute~,” he said, licking up the mess from his finger. He then wrapped his arms around Yuuri, the heels he continued to wear giving him an even greater height advantage as he tucked the top of Yuuri’s head under his chin. “You’re so nice and soft, _porosya moya_ ~”

“You’re calling me all sorts of weird names today. How do I know you’re not making fun of me?” Yuuri grumbled, but he didn’t have the heart to push Viktor away. He was warm and solid against Yuuri’s back. His arms were surprisingly strong. Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to stay cradled in someone’s arms -- even with past relationships, Yuuri would guiltily wonder when his significant other would release him already, uncomfortable with the proximity.

Viktor rocked them back and forth, ignoring the looks he was drawing towards them. “I would never do such a thing to you! Well, not in a mean way. I like teasing, but everything I’ve called you is out of love~ Shall I teach you Russian so you can know?”

“No, because then you get make fun of me when I Google search how to call you lovely.”

“You just won’t let me live that down, will you?”

Yuuri laughed, too amused to care how Viktor would feel the ripples of laughter on his stomach. “Nope!”

“Oh, I should’ve expected you would get all cutesy with your boyfriend right in public, Viktor.” Chris showed up, still wrapped in his satin clothing, the slits on the sides of his pants extending all the way up to his hip. Anyone who looked would be acutely aware that he was _not_ wearing underwear.

Viktor spun them around to face his friend. “Chris~ Good job out there! The audience was thoroughly seduced~”

“It was a tough act to follow, was it not?” Chris smiled as he downed his flute of champagne in one swig. “We should go out to a club tonight. Yuuri, you come too~”

“Eh? Oh, that’s--”

“Viktor! Christophe!” Obviously, where two top models gathered, another couldn’t be far behind. JJ came towards them, Isabella attached to his arm again and easily keeping up with JJ’s long, proud strides in her heels. “Did you hear from your agents, yet? The results from the sponsors came back!”

Since JJ seemed to be perpetually smiling, it was hard to tell what kind of news he was about to deliver. Chris crossed his arms, jutting a hip out. “Well don’t keep it bottled up, it’s better to release now.”

JJ nodded, and turned to Viktor. “I’ll cut to the chase then. As expected, LE ROY took the number one slot for the most sponsors! Looks like Stammi Vicino’s three-year winning streak has come to a close. So sorry, Viktor. I’m sure the blow is hard on you, but I had to bring my A-game out there.”

Chris tsked. “Excuse me? I can accept Intoxicated topping SV, but… Oh, I’m calling Josef.”

As Chris took out his phone from...God-knows-where, Yuuri felt Viktor’s hold on him ease. Yuuri blinked, but no matter how he looked at JJ, he didn’t look insincere in his declaration in the slightest.

It wasn’t like all the possible fashion sponsors of the world had come to this event. It was admittedly smaller than most shows these three big-time brands attended in the first place, and Stammi Vicino was popular enough that not getting the most sponsors in this event wasn’t the end of the world. But still... Yuuri wondered what happened. Seung Gil and the other designers had done incredible jobs with the outfits. Mila, Sara… _Viktor_ had been utterly flawless and stunning on the runway.

Everyone looked at the top models with the most scrutiny, measuring the worth and style of what adorned their bodies.

So if it wasn’t the fault of Viktor’s clothing, designed by someone who had worked with Stammi Vicino for years, then...

Christ sighed, hanging up his phone. “Nope, not a mistake about it. LE ROY took the lead by three. How vexing.”

“Glad you’re taking the news gracefully,” JJ said as Isabella beamed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go meet our noble patrons. Catch you gentlemen on the flipside~”

Yuuri couldn’t help but notice that Viktor hadn’t said a single thing throughout the entire exchange. Neither could Yuuri bring himself to look at his face, still painted with his work. It suddenly seemed to look very silly to have put the make-up on Viktor, the heavy feeling making Yuuri’s throat feel tight.

* * *

“Yuuri, you haven’t said anything in a while. Are you alright?”

The evening was drawing to a close, leaving the sky and buildings dark, illuminated only by the twinkle and shine of city lights and neon signs to the shops and bars and clubs they passed. Yuuri had been aimlessly staring at them behind the sedan’s tinted windows after a photoshoot at the heart of the city.

The runway event had ended three days ago, and Yuuri had only said the bare minimum most of that time. His polite nature prompted him to put on a smile for Phichit, for Mila, for Viktor. But just like most times when his anxiety simmered just below the surface of his skin, Yuuri wasn’t left with much energy to be as lively as he should be. Even Yuri had noticed, asking in his own Yuri way, “The fuck is up with you, piggy? Finally getting sick of working with this balding airhead?”

He doubted even Viktor was fooled, and “a while” probably didn’t mean just today.

Yuuri didn’t even glance over. “I’m just tired. Busy day.”

“Well, you refused your coffee today. No wonder you’re exhausted.” There was laughter in Viktor’s voice, trying to draw a smile from Yuuri.

He wouldn’t get it. His insides were too much of a mess to play along with Viktor, his light-hearted voice alone making him internally flinch with thoughts like, _I shouldn’t be here. Why am I in this car with you? Why did I think I could do this?_

They approached a red light.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said in the silence. “I noticed you’re more accident-prone in the dressing room when you have something on your mind. Care to share?”

Yuuri released a shuddering breath, his thumb nail picking into the seam of his pants. “I just think… You really did make a mistake in letting an unconfident novice like me work at SV.” _With you_ , was what he really wanted to say. “Back at the runway show…”

Viktor connected the dots, and he frowned. “Yuuri, the results weren’t because of anything you did.”

“But I was the only variable.” The words bubbled quickly from his lips, his chest feeling cold and bloodless. “Everyone did their job as they’d always done, but then I came along and I -- I tarnished your name.”

Viktor stared at him, looking utterly lost as to where this despair was coming from. Yuuri wouldn't blame him at all if he thought he was overreacting.

“You’re giving yourself too much credit there,” he said, his reassuring words borderlining a harsh kind of firmness. His tone didn't indicate he was accusing Yuuri of overreacting. “The only variable? Stammi Vicino changes all the time, it’s how we surprise people. It’s our brand! You did something new with your artistry, made me feel breathless, as I’m sure the audience did when they saw the face you gave me.” Viktor reached out and grabbed his hand. “You _belong_ here, Yuuri. I did not make a mistake in choosing you.”

The light changed green, the return of motion making Yuuri gravitate away from Viktor and against the window.

Yuuri stared at his knees, pulling his hand away. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I thought what I did for you was enough… I thought -- how I pictured your beauty was enough, but...it wasn’t, I’m sorry.”

 _I thought the feelings I could convey to you really would shine on stage. I thought our love really could be the strongest_.

"You should look for another artist."

"I won't."

Yuuri frowned at him, suddenly irritated at his stubbornness. His glare might've been more effective if he wasn't on the verge of tears. "How can you be so sure after you've seen what I can do?"

Viktor didn’t let him pull away so easily, gathering his shoulder in his palm. “Yuuri. Yuuri, _listen_ to me.” His voice lowered to a soothing, desperate level. He squeezed, waiting until at last Yuuri met his gaze, his eyes glowing darkly in the night’s light. “I _have_ seen what you can do. That's why... Please don’t treat the image you gave me like it was garbage. I’m not,” his voice grew tight, a thread rapidly tightening, “I’m a model but I’m not -- _clothing_ you can disagree with or say isn’t pretty enough and just toss me back in the closet without my say. Do you get what I’m saying? The way _you_ see me is important to me, Yuuri. And you...you make me feel so _beautiful_ , and I want to show you so much more and I want...”

Yuuri stared at him, blinking the forming tears from his eyes until he could see Viktor’s face again, the desperate, seeking look swimming in his own blue eyes.

“Sorry,” Yuuri breathed. “Sorry.” He had no idea what he was apologizing for. But it was his go-to word when everything was too much and his world was crumpling into failure. It never felt like a strong enough word. Especially when faced with the emotion in Viktor’s words, something he desperately wanted to say but didn’t have words for yet burning on his tongue.

At the very least, Viktor seemed to get Yuuri was trying not to be self-deprecating. He released a relieved breath, and pulled him in for a tight hug, like he was afraid Yuuri would disappear. “Just -- I want you to stay close to me, Yuuri. You’re my gravity, you know?”

Yuuri slowly relaxed in Viktor’s hold, his short-breathed anxiety escaping from how he clutched tightly at Viktor's sleeves, his nose buried in the scent of his cologne sprinkled into his neck. He grounded himself with both of these until his heart rate returned to normal, and never once did Viktor loosen his hold.

"I'll show you. I'll make you understand," Viktor murmured into his hair.

After getting to Stammi Vicino, Viktor took Yuuri home in his own car. It was the slowest and most careful he’d ever driven, and it gave Yuuri time to actually enjoy Viktor stumble over lyrics over the radio’s songs, and how the city lights danced over his face.

He wasn’t wearing make-up for once, and he sang like a dying cat, but to Yuuri he was still a spectacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, oh goodness, this series [has fanart](https://twitter.com/vanillabean_97/status/835458173074976768) ;_; @vanillabean_97 on twitter captured Viktor with lovely lipstick kiss marks from last chapter~ I'm still in such love ;u;
> 
> Speaking of twitter, I got a new username, @RenOnIceCream :D
> 
> I'm reluctant to say when I'll update next, but I'll definitely try not to make you wait two weeks next time since I rather liked the once a week schedule :"") Thank you everyone again for your continued support!


	6. baby loves to dance in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: It won't take me two weeks to update this time  
> Me: //updates 12 days later TECHNICALLY NOT TWO WEEKS.....  
> (I think it's just best to assume I'll update every two weeks from now on OTL)
> 
> My dudes, I did my best this chapter though, I can't believe this is 9000+ words. It's a doozy. But I hope it's enjoyable for all of you to read. Thank you all for your continued support! Chapter title is from "Dance in the Dark" by Lady Gaga.

The steam from the fresh pork cutlet bowl in front of Yuuri mixed with the smoke of Mari’s cigarette. The intermingling sight and scents remind him of how long it’d been since he’d been by his family’s inn. Even the small, teasing smile she gave him was wonderfully familiar.

“So your precious Viktor finally gave you some time off, huh?” she asked.

“For the week, yeah.” Yuuri picked up his chopsticks, murmured a quick, “Thanks for the food,” and dug into his meal, moaning happily as his tastebuds sang. After his first bites, he said, “He’s helping Lilia train the younger models, so he doesn’t really need me around.”

“Regretfully,” Mari said with a chuckle. 

He pursed his lips around a mouthful of noodle and chopsticks. “Don’t make it sound like I’m  _ always  _ with him.”

“Coulda fooled us. Every time your mother calls, you’re busy working with that handsome model. Not that we’re complaining over having such a hard-working boy,” Yuuri’s father, Toshiya, said with a smile. He sat adjacent to Yuuri, the four members of the family sitting around the table for dinner in their private room. 

After all the pork cutlets bowls and side dishes were passed around, Yuuri’s mother, Hiroko, took a seat on Yuuri’s other side with a dainty plop. She too was smiling. “It’s true. But I am glad you can come home every once in a while, Yuuri. Minako would tell me how you were doing but now I never really get to hear about you...”

“Ah -- sorry, Mom, I’ll definitely call more.”

“Yuuri isn’t a kid anymore, Mom,” Mari pointed out, stubbing her cigarette out in the ashtray. “He’s a big boy now. Besides, you can rest assured Viktor Nikiforov is taking great care of him.”

Hiroko didn’t seem fully convinced to not hear about her son’s wellbeing, but she continued to smile, pressing a palm to her cheek. “Oh, well, he  _ does  _ sound like a nice young man. You said he wanted to even visit the inn? I want to see him, honey,” she said sweetly, leaving no room for argument.

Right at her heels, Toshiya nodded, clacking his chopsticks in Yuuri’s direction. “Get him to come over, ask him to bring his friends too. Spread the word!” 

“I bet you’re going to ask he shoot a commercial for the inn next,” Mari remarked with a small snort. 

Toshiya’s eyes filled with inspiration. “Well, that would be just swell! Yuuri, how do these models go about their commercial business? Look into that for us.”

Yuuri nodded along compliantly, his laugh muffled in another mouthful of food. As he suspected, his family had really taken to Viktor from all standpoints. It was embarrassing, but also nice that his parents were eager to meet the man that had been on his walls and the inspiration behind his private runway shows they’d catch him in (always ending in heartfelt laughs to soothe his embarrassment and shame and his mother gushing about what a pretty son she had).

Hiroko was gave him that same appraising look after dinner was done and he helped her dry off the dishes she washed. Yuuri glanced over at her in question.

“You’re looking so radiant, Yuuri,” she sighed wistfully, petting a wet hand through his hair. 

He laughed a bit. “Oh, I mean… I’ve been trying out some new highlighters on my face, some eyeshadows too.” It used to be awkward for him to talk cosmetics with his mother, but her unwavering support in his interests and job boosted his confidence to make it a normal topic with her. She would joke that he should give her tips when she went out. 

His mother took another look at his face, as if she just noticed the modest make-up he’d put on. “Oh, that  _ does  _ look lovely, honey~,” she gushed. “That wasn’t what I was talking about though.”

In his pocket, Yuuri’s phone buzzed. His mother continued to pass him dishes, and he pulled out his phone and tapped away between drying bowls and cups. 

“What were you talking about then?”

 

**From: ✨Viktor✨** ****  
_ yurio is so hopeless, he scowls during shoots too! LOL  
_ _ [attached image] _

 

Yuuri glanced at the photo Viktor had taken. The setting looked to be eliciting something sweet and nostalgic, grass under Yuri’s feet, a glittering lake behind him and his shoulder pressed to a tree. Even his outfit had a delicate beauty to it -- but he was scowling quite deeply right at Viktor, his glare at odds with the soft atmosphere.

 

_ >im pretty sure he’s just like that at you haha _ _   
_ _ >also, yurio?? _

 

“Well, you know how they say being in love puts a glow on your face?” 

 

**From: ✨Viktor✨** ****  
_ U are both yuri, so i gave him a nickname! :D  
_ _ now tell him he’ll get wrinkles frowning like that! so tragic for a model!! _

 

_ >why does he get the nickname?? _

 

**From: ✨Viktor✨  
** _ oh i wanted to give it to you but i didn’t want EVERYONE calling you  _ _ любимый _

 

“M-Mom, I think you should take my word on the highlighting.” 

“I’m just saying, remember me and your father wouldn’t mind if you had a male partner. I really do want to meet this Viktor if he means so much to you, Yuuri.” She turned large, hopeful eyes at him -- and how was Yuuri supposed to refuse his sweet mother who just spoiled him with love and his favorite dish? 

Well, he wouldn’t completely mind Viktor coming over since he wanted to visit the inn anyway. But he  _ did  _ have to make sure to get this “partner” idea out of his family’s head -- what if they were overbearing to poor, unsuspecting Viktor, just because they thought he was  _ dating  _ him, or because they were convinced Yuuri was in love with him? He -- he had a bit of a crush on him, sure, but…

But...?

_ Was  _ there a but? Why was Yuuri struggling to come up with a but?

To distract himself, he Google-translated the word Viktor sent, and his knees nearly gave out at the list of possible translations and uses with other Russian words. It reminded him that the man he was dealing with wasn’t poor or unsuspecting in the  _ least _ . 

“Favorite”, “beloved person”, “my favorite”, “the man I love”. 

His mother watched as Yuuri sputtered in incoherent Japanese-English-Gibberish at his phone and made a dizzying dash out of the kitchen.

“I-I have to go! I’ll call you later, Mom!”

“So soon? Ahh, bring Vicchan next time!”

Yuuri’s head collided with the doorframe, but he feebly agreed.

* * *

Even though Yuuri had been incredibly nervous to work for Viktor, his greatest challenge as a make-up artist was presented by being paired with a newly seventeen-year-old Russian boy.

“Yuri,” he sighed. “Can you  _ please  _ stop pressing your lips so closely together? I really need to put your lip lacquer on.” 

If anything, Yuuri’s plea provoked Yuri to make his lips disappear completely between his teeth. He crossed his arms, glaring his spring-green eyes right up at Yuuri. “ _ Nyet _ ! I don’t see why I have to put on such flashy make-up! I’m a respectable boy, you know!” 

They were in Viktor’s dressing room, although Yuri had taken the chair in front of the vanity since it was his shoot with the other training models that day. Both Viktor and Mila were sitting on the sofa, phone-scrolling and flipping through a magazine, respectively. They were laughing under their breath at Yuri’s behavior. 

“Yura, make-up isn’t for any one gender, you know that,” Mila said with a snort. “I hate to admit it, but you’ve got a really pretty face -- thank your mother. So you know photographers are gonna love playing up your delicate features.” 

Yuri huffed through his nose, prompting Yuuri’s hand away from his face again. “I don’t  _ want  _ a delicate, pretty face and be shoved into all these sweet, cupcake-y shoots!” 

“Now you’re just being a brat,” Viktor said, shaking his head. “You’re still young, be grateful for any work that’ll boost your career. You were the one that said you didn’t want to ride on your mother’s coattails. Well, Yurio, welcome to the bottom -- you won’t always get work you like. Now then,” he offered a saccharine smile, “be a good boy for Yuuri. You should feel honored to have such a talented man work on you.”

Yuuri ducked his head to hide his smile, but Yuri still caught it, and he stuck his tongue out, making a gagging sound. 

“Don’t fall for that balding freak’s dumb words.”

Viktor tilted his head, his smile growing. “Careful about that frown, it’d be a shame if you got a wrinkly forehead prematurely.”

“Yeah, and  _ your  _ forehead has enough room for wrinkles for the whole country,  _ mudak _ .”

Yuuri hastily stepped between them with a nervous laugh. “Okay, okay, you’re  _ both  _ pretty. Now, uh -- Yuri, the sooner you let me put on your make-up, the sooner the shoot will be over. So could you please let me do this for you?” He dared to meet the unyielding pierce of Yuri’s eyes as he spoke.

At first, Yuri didn’t back down. Neither did Yuuri. Finally, the teenager accepted defeat, draping himself bonelessly on the chair. “Whatever. Do what you want.” He pushed his lips out in an exaggerated pout, and Yuuri brightened up, swiping the rosy lacquer on.

What Mila had said about Yuri was right -- despite his scowls, Yuri was extremely beautiful: shining, flaxen hair, fair skin, long lashes… Yuuri couldn’t blame the brands and fashion boutiques that were begging him to pose in their flowery, shimmering outfits. 

It was the polar opposite of who Yuri was though, and what he wore. Yuuri wondered what kind of clothes or shoots or brands the teenager would actually  _ like  _ to model for. 

“Out of curiosity,” he said once Viktor and Mila got into their own conversation in Russian, “what kind of work would you like to do? Is there a specific brand you like, for example?” 

Yuri glanced to the side as blush was dusted over his cheeks. “Whatever looks cool, I guess.”

“Like… Black leather and tiger stripes?” 

“What--  _ You _ ! You actually  _ get  _ it!” Yuri straightened up, thoroughly stunned as Yuuri felt. “Actually, there is  _ one  _ brand I like that’s exactly like that. Ever hear of ‘alma’? It’s not big like Stammi Vicino in both size and exposure, so I  _ guess  _ I can’t hold it against you if you haven’t.” 

“No, sorry,” Yuuri said with a small smile.

Yuri dismissed him with a wave. “Whatever, y’know. I’m not that big on fashion, even though I’m a model, but…” A small sparkle filled Yuri’s eyes, making his expression soften. “I wouldn’t mind it to be alma’s model. I don’t think he’s ever had one, which is why the brand is so small. So maybe if I could do work for him once I’m a more famous model…”

Yuuri smiled. “That’s a really sweet dream to have.” 

In answer, Yuri’s cheeks grew shades darker than the applied blush, and _ hmmph _ ’d.

The shoot began a few minutes later. It was for a boutique’s spring catalogue. The season of lighter clothing and bright colors had arrived, and more green was appearing in the wake of the last snowfalls. Fashion everywhere was exploding into flowers and suns and weddings and inspired by the fluttering wings of butterflies and birds.

Yuuri, Viktor, and Mila watched in support as Yuri started his shoot, paired with two other young models. Together, they looked refreshing and sweet, like a small bouquet of flowers -- quite literally with the overflowing lace and intricate gold trim of their formal jackets and tiny blooms woven in their hair.

Under Lilia’s direction, the models posed themselves and searched for relaxed but beautiful expressions to wear. Even Yuri eventually eased up on his harsh frowning. His eyes were still burning, but his expression softened enough to truly shine before the camera flashes.

_ Leave it to SV to scout such raw talent. After all, they found gems like Viktor. He must be excited to help train the new models. I wonder if he’s nostalgic at all? _ Yuuri smiled thinking to the first shoots and fashion shows Viktor has participated in in his youth.

When Yuuri did glance at Viktor though, there was a complicated look in his eyes as he watched the shoot. His finger was pressed to his lips, and his brow was furrowed. Yuuri thought he might have been merely focusing, but something else was creeping at the edges of his expression. 

_ Worry? Anxiety? _

Concern bubbled in Yuuri’s chest, but when Viktor noticed him staring, he flipped a switch and put on a bright smile. Yuuri recognized it immediately as one he wore for the paparazzi or the press on a particularly long day -- polite and distant, blindingly beautiful for distraction. 

Yuuri wondered why after all these weeks of Viktor clinging to him and giving him so many heart-shaped smiles he was suddenly holding Yuuri at arms-length.

* * *

Viktor stripped off the outfit he’d been modeling with a heavy, relieved sigh, offering the silky slip to Seung Gil’s waiting arms. He hung it up neatly before leaving the dressing room as silently as ever.

Yuuri approached him and held out a bottle of water. “Are you okay, Viktor? You seem really tired.”

“Not at all! I’m very spry and full of energy!” Viktor stretched his arms up, and Yuuri got a full view of his naked shoulder blades and back muscles bunching up and flexing from the movement. He accepted the water bottle and sipped from it, completely comfortable with the fact that he was standing in only a pair of black, satin panties with lace trimming.

(A huge benefit and  _ curse  _ to being able to watch Viktor undress near-daily was that Yuuri was quite aware now that Viktor was always wearing panties -- and in the cases where he wasn’t, then he was wearing  _ nothing _ . His collection of mental images of Viktor’s ass had grown exponentially the past weeks.)

“If you think it’s busy now, just wait until the New York and Los Angeles fashion weeks,” Viktor went on, crossing his bare thighs together. “At that time, there will be so much going on, I very well won’t be the only model you’ll be working with. As it is, other make-up artists will be working with me too. We might need to find you an assistant as it gets closer to the season… You think Minako and that excitable boy with the red streak would be up for it?”

“Oh, ah -- I can definitely talk to them about it.” Minako would be excited at the prospect of working with models again and seeing Fashion Week up close and personal. Minami, while inexperienced, would definitely not pass up a chance to prove his skills and work near Yuuri again. 

Speaking of Fashion Week… It was just last month, yet Viktor hadn’t attended either the L.A. or New York one, even though Stammi Vicino was a regular feature. For years, Yuuri had kept up with SV coverage during Fashion Week and obsessively scoured social media for pictures of Viktor in the new collections of flowing, colorful ensembles. For this year’s February events, however… Viktor had been notably absent.

Both Mila and Sara had flown out to attend and model, but Viktor remained behind and did other jobs for Stammi Vicino. Gossip poured endlessly through online tabloids and forums, Twitter blowing up with asking where Viktor was. Yuuri could remember journalists trying to slide in secret interviews with Viktor while Yakov was out of sight to ask him about the fiasco.

Plenty of other, smaller Fashion Weeks would be peppered throughout the year, so at the time, Yuuri had just taken Viktor’s airy attitude about it at face-value. Viktor seemed happy with the work he got, and laughed at the coverage of several silly incidents in New York. 

Perhaps all that gossip and talk sparked something though, or perhaps it was nothing at all, since things were back to normal and Viktor was planning on attending September’s Fashion Week. Either way, Yuuri was happy for him and hoped it would stop all the ridiculous gossip that had been going on about Viktor. It was silly, since as a celebrity Viktor had been pried open and talked about all the time -- nonetheless, the desire to shield Viktor from all that pulled at Yuuri’s heartstrings.

“Are you excited?” Yuuri asked. He had Viktor’s robe in his hand. Instead of handing it to him though, Yuuri draped the silky material over his silvery hair, smoothing it down like a little hood.

Viktor laughed at his silliness and looked up at him. “I’m excited to take you. There will be so much to do and see~ It’ll be your first Fashion Week, but it’ll be your first time in New York too, right? Yuuri, let’s make sure to do everything together!”

“Model by day, annoying foreign tourist by night?” Yuuri arched his eyebrows.

“ _ Precisely _ . We’ve got to fill your abysmal Instagram with documentation of our adventures~” Viktor winked at him.

They left SV’s building as soon as Viktor was properly dressed. He’d become such a good, law-abiding driver ever since he started giving Yuuri lifts home, so it’d be a shame to suddenly get pulled over for public indecency. Of course, he still had his moments -- like right now when he insisted on checking his phone after it chimed with a text message, lifting one hand from the wheel. 

He froze at seeing Yuuri’s judging stare. “Ah -- why don’t you check who that was for me, my sweet Yuuri?” 

“Uh-huh. Good boy.”

“When did I become your puppy?” But Viktor sounded pleased with this development. “Oh, zero-six-sixteen, by the way. That’s Makkachin’s birthday~ Speaking of dogs.”

Yuuri unlocked Viktor’s phone, simultaneously unlocking the achievement Passcode to Viktor-Fuckin’-Nikiforov’s Cellphone; he could practically hear the PS4’s resulting chime. Greeting him on Viktor’s homescreen was a photo of Makkachin emerging from a pile of Viktor’s clothes and  _ dammit how could such a sexy man have such a ridiculously cute side too!? _

Yuuri reached out and patted Viktor’s head, ruffling his perfectly-combed hair and-- Wow. Oh wow, Viktor had such  _ soft  _ hair… “You act like a dog sometimes, so it only fits.” 

“Will you pet me lots then? Oh, are you going to make me wear a collar and leash? How lewd, Yuuri~”

“ _ Please _ don’t say such dirty things like they were my idea!” Yuuri groaned in distress, pressing Viktor’s phone closer to his face. Speaking of kinky… “Chris texted you. He’s asking about going to Sway tonight.”

“Oh, that’s a club we like going to. Well, we never did give him an answer back at the runway competition. Yuuri, will you come with? The night is young, we should go have fun~!” As if to recall their conversation, Yuuri could swear he saw dog ears perk up on Viktor’s head, his tail wagging in anticipation.

“F-for Instagram?”

“No, silly, for  _ us _ . For you. I always drive you straight home, and I always think of what I can say to make you stay longer. Except for the time at the cafe, we haven’t really spent time with each other outside of work, and I’d…” Viktor cleared his throat, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. “I just think it’ll be fun, Yuuri.”

“Oh.” Yuuri looked down at Viktor’s phone. “Should… Should I tell Chris we’ll both be there then?” It was easier than he thought to make the offer, and even Viktor looked surprised that Yuuri had accepted. 

Then, of course, he got excited. “Oh, let me tell him! Gimmie my phone, Yuuri, we’re at a red light… Aaand, yes!” Viktor looked triumphant after sending the message, grinning at Yuuri. “Now you can’t back out~” 

“I’m not going to _ run away _ , Viktor,” Yuuri said, slightly affronted that Viktor had such little faith in him. Not that he could  _ blame  _ him -- Yuuri was acutely aware that running away might as well be a special skill of his. He ran away from social events, he ran away from opportunities, from relationships… He’d always been the one to break up with people as soon as the boat was rocked in the slightest. 

All Yuuri had ever done since he met Viktor though was run towards him. And instead of letting Yuuri go like others had, Viktor held onto him and pulled him back, trying to figure out why Yuuri had tried to bolt in the first place. Even when Yuuri had tried to quit as his make-up artist and was just a few panicked breaths away from wanting to escape the car completely, Viktor had held him. 

Yuuri wanted to find out what places he’d be led to if he kept following Viktor. It was like they were walking together on a sidewalk and going toward an unknown destination. And whenever Yuuri stopped, Viktor would look back a few paces ahead, as if asking, “ _ Are you coming? _ ” Then, he’d wait for Yuuri to catch up to his side. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said out loud, an affirmation for both himself and Viktor. “I’m coming. So that’s that.” 

* * *

Lights streamed down from the ceiling in ribbons, dancing right along with the flushed, sweating bodies down below. Clubbers crammed onto the raised platform with glowing lights, their excited chatter and singing utterly swallowed by the thumping pulse of a Lady Gaga song.

Even Yuuri couldn’t tell what was pumping through his chest, making his heartbeat heavy and powerful -- adrenaline or discomfort. Both? Could it be both? He continued to press his back close to the shadowed wall, desperately filling his throat with the aftertaste of the vodka Viktor had offered him. Viktor had drank from it first, and when it was filled again and shoved in Yuuri’s hand, Yuuri -- already buzzed -- tentatively placed his lips where Viktor’s had been moments ago, chasing a taste he wasn’t even acquainted with.

Viktor, Chris, and Masumi were dancing wildly just a few meters away from Yuuri, intoxicated smiles already playing on their lips and bodies glittering with sweat. Or maybe it was actual glitter too. That stuff was a bitch to wipe off, but Viktor never seemed to care about it. It made the club’s lights shimmer prettily on him, at any rate.

Spotting Yuuri between the twirling and thrashing crowd, Viktor waved him over. He could see the familiar shape of his name form on Viktor’s lips. Yuuri smiled but shook his head, pointing to the bar against the adjacent wall. Viktor pouted as Yuuri inched further away from the dance floor.

“Another raspberry Smirnoff?” the bartender, recognizing both Yuuri and the glass he placed on the counter. 

“Um, just -- just a Jack and coke,” he said, shrinking back when another customer wedged in. It was so awkward to drink at a club, having to shout over the noise and squeeze in between the loitering patrons. 

By the time Yuuri took his first gulp, a pair of arms found him. Yuuri froze, imagining a creepy, drunken pervert, and was relieved to find Viktor’s gorgeously flushed face next to his. The relief flooded his head, bringing the sweet streams of alcohol with it. Yuuri’s neck suddenly felt too flimsy to support his head, and he bumped his forehead against Viktor’s. For some reason, this was funny and Yuuri hoped his laugh wasn’t stupid.

“Hi, stranger.” 

“Yuuuuriii.” Viktor was whining, but his smile was large and delirious. His accent was thicker in the slur of his words. “Are you jus’ gunna hang ‘round the bar all night? I wanted to  _ dance  _ with you. Show me how you daaaance.” 

“What did you drink to already get like this? And why didn’t you share? Stingy people don’t get dances with me,” Yuuri said, babbling nonsense with his vodka breath all over Viktor. 

Viktor tightened his arms around Yuuri, swaying his hips with the beat of the song and trying to coax Yuuri into movement too. “Me ‘n’ Chris took shots while you were waiting for the bathroom. Not important. Dance time noooow.” 

Forcing the rest of his drink down in one go, Yuuri determined that he’d be fine once the whiskey kicked in and he broke away from the counter. Right now, the prospect of swaying and tossing his head with the song’s beat among all these strangers didn’t seem intimidating or ridiculous. Even holding Viktor’s hand as he led them to the dance floor seemed so natural to him, his body urging him to spin him in his arms and play his tall, lithe body like an instrument. 

The cooler outskirts of the club gave way to the raw heat of the crowd, and Chris and Masumi cheered when Viktor and Yuuri joined them. The couple had been happily grinding on one another, Masumi melting in Chris’ arms and laughing loudly. In the dark fog of Yuuri’s mind, he wondered if that was how Viktor wanted him to dance, all the way down to his neck being peppered with kisses. He wouldn’t mind making such a fantasy come true tonight.

The song changed in a bright burst of light, and it immediately tugged Viktor’s body into action. Yuuri gently rocked himself just outside the circle, trying to ease himself into being lost in the beat. Closing his eyes usually helped with this, and also assisted in the illusion that no one could see him dance.

But Yuuri kept his eyes open and on Viktor, and in return glazed blue eyes remained on him. The silly drunkenness of Viktor smile left, melting into a finely-crafted, alluring grin that strung Yuuri’s heart all-too-perfectly.

And oh god, Viktor was absolutely  _ dazzling  _ and gorgeous. He danced with the seductive confidence as he would possess on his struts down the runway. In a club though, Viktor purely showcased his body and energy, snapping his hips and outstretching his fingers toward Yuuri.

“ _ Are you coming? _ ”

He suddenly remembered Phichit’s words just a few weeks ago, asking him, “ _ What do you have to lose? _ ”

Yuuri gazed at Viktor, the back of his head buzzing with everything he did have to lose -- a job, his heart, Viktor himself… But fuck if Yuuri wasn’t completely fixated on Viktor, who so very clearly  _ noticed  _ him right now and was trying to win just the grace of a dance. 

Chris bumped against him from behind, casually urging Yuuri closer to Viktor with a laugh. It woke Yuuri up again, and he raised his arms, showing off the movements of his soft, shapely hips, gyrating them in circles. Viktor quirked an interested brow, coming closer. 

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to put on a show. He ran his hands over his chest and down his sides, flitting his fingertips over the fabric then back up to tangle briefly through his hair. When Viktor looked up from his body to his face, Yuuri glanced away, teasing Viktor with his flickering attention. The song bursting through their bodies pulled at every bone along his spine, and Yuuri felt like he was floating just a few inches above the floor as he lost himself  to his dance. 

Viktor rocked towards him, asking with his body to intrude on Yuuri’s personal bubble. Yuuri only smiled, meeting his eyes, and suddenly he had no idea why there was space between them at all. Every heavy electric beat of his heart beckoned him closer, and soon their hands were fumbling for one another’s in the flashing lights. They twirled, as if skating around the inevitable -- and it  _ did  _ feel inevitable, such a natural pull on glamorous red strings as Yuuri at last fell into the explosions of their connection.

_ Do you know what you started? _

His feverish body melted right into Viktor’s, pressed chest to chest, pulling back, meeting again closer than before, both of them smiling as their foreheads pressed together. Sighs spilled from Yuuri’s lips, then bubbles of laughter as he danced together with Viktor -- he placed his hands on Viktor’s hips, leading them to move in sync, melting the urgent thrust of Viktor’s movements into silky rocking. 

_ Your hands around my waist-- _

_ Just let the music play-- _

_ We’re hand in hand,  _

_ chest to chest,  _

_ and now we’re face to face _

Yuuri’s head was spinning in sweet alcoholic colors -- or maybe he was dizzy from dancing, but he could not stop leading Viktor in intoxicating circles through the dance floor. He was confident he could dance until morning, if it meant his hands teasing under the hem of Viktor’s shirt, if Viktor could thread his fingers in his sweat-soaked hair, sing-screaming the song, like if he could sing the loudest then maybe --  _ maybe  _ \-- Yuuri would realize.

* * *

Sway closed at two a.m., so Yuuri’s mission to dance until morning was broken. He might’ve kept rocking around in the backseat of the cab Masumi had called for him and Viktor though.

“Please make sure these two  _ strippers  _ get home okay,” Masumi deadpanned to the driver, and Chris snorted behind him. All the buttons to Viktor’s shirt were undone, his skin flushed and  _ still  _ fucking glittery. Yuuri’s pants were undone and sliding off his hips, though he wasn’t quite sure when he did that, but Masumi had apparently stopped him from getting kicked out of the club.

“We’ll be good boys~!” Viktor sang in promise. “Yuuri’s such a good boy, so he’ll-- he’ll watch me,  _ da _ ?”

“Daaaa~,” Yuuri agreed in a horrible accent.

Viktor ruffled his already messy hair, grinning stupidly wide. “Oh my god, Yuuri, you’re so  _ smart _ , what a quick learner! Good boy, good boy~” 

“Okay, okay, get out of here and get some beauty rest,” Chris said. “Your hungover selves will be a horrible enough sight as it is.”

Yuuri leaned over Viktor to point an accusing finger outside the cab’s window. “ _ Rude _ , Chris, Viktor is  _ always  _ gorgeous!” He draped his arms as best as he could around Viktor’s neck, given their awkward position in the backseat.

“Yaay, my cutie boyfriend thinks I’m gorgeous~~!”

“They’re always so adorable at this stage,” Chris said, exchanging a laugh with Masumi. “Alright, off with you.”

The drive through the late-night streets was mostly filled with Viktor’s drunken renditions of songs from the club, and Yuuri still managing to have some semblance of  propriety to apologize to the cab driver for how stupid they were. Inside a small vehicle, Yuuri whined at the uncomfortable heat sticking to his body, and finally shimmied out of his pants, with much help from Viktor after he nearly kicked him in the face. 

Eventually Yuuri flopped his head on Viktor’s lap, watching the shadows from the streetlights play with the planes of his face. 

“Yuuri, spend the night with me,” Viktor said. “It’s really late, and my bed is reeeally soft, and Makkachin is sooo warm.” 

Spending the night in Viktor Nikiforov’s apartment, maybe even laying in bed with him and his super-adorable dog? There was no decision to be made in Yuuri’s fizzy head. He reached out and tried to boop Viktor’s nose like he always did to Yuuri, but he missed when they hit a pothole and poked at Viktor’s cheek.

“ _ Da _ ~,” he repeated again. 

They came to a stop at a pristine, expensive-looking apartment complex framed with flowers and palm trees and terracotta roofs. Viktor handed more than enough money to the cab driver, telling him joyfully to keep the change. The cool night air hit Yuuri’s bare thighs and Viktor’s chest as soon as they stumbled out of the cab, and Yuuri snorted in laughter at how they contrasted with the uptight atmosphere.

“Oh my god, we  _ are  _ strippers.”

“We should form a duo! Russian Red and Midnight Sake Bomb. Our act will be,” Viktor kicked a leg out, posing against the stairwell they approached, “ _ Sex!!! on Ice! _ ”

“Pffft, why on  _ ice _ ?” Yuuri asked. They threw one arm around each other’s shoulders, working together to trudge up the stairs. With Viktor’s skewed guidance, they eventually made it in front of a door -- presumably Viktor’s since it opened after some fiddling with keys.

The first thing to hit Yuuri was the faint burst of old cigarette smoke from inside the apartment. Yuuri knew Viktor didn’t smoke, so he wondered if it was a scent embedded in the walls and carpet from the previous tenant. 

The second thing was a large, fluffy dog that scampered right up against their legs, wagging his tail and panting excitedly as he licked at Yuuri’s knees. The weight of his paws against their unsteady legs was enough to knock them over just as Viktor shut the door behind him. 

Yuuri gasped happily, threading his fingers into the thick fur of the adorable pooch. “Oh my  _ god _ , it’s the real life Makkachin! You’re SO adorable!”

Viktor beamed at the praise. “Right?? Isn’t he the best in the entire world? Say hello to Yuuri, Makka~” They arranged themselves on the floor, petting Makkachin who was all too pleased to drink in the love and attention and new scents. 

Eventually Viktor started to grope around in the dark to turn on the lights, illuminating a trail to one of the rooms that Yuuri followed him in. Along the way, he took in the sight of the surprisingly tidy apartment. The only mess were the stacks of magazines peppered on the floor and counters and coffee tables -- fashion magazines, by the looks of it. 

The real disaster didn’t start until they were in the bedroom -- clothes and magazines and boots and bags clumped all over, make-up and jewelry spilled on the vanity, and the sheets a tangled, colorful mess. Viktor made a half-hearted attempt at forging them a path by kicking aside items.

“Wait here,  _ zvyozdochka _ ,” Viktor said, making a motion with his hand like he was telling Makkachin to stay and sit. “I’ve got some Powerade we can drink. Uh, are you allergic to peanuts?”

“Nope. But Viktor, do you have the capacity to make peanut butter right now?” Yuuri asked, mildly surprised that Viktor offered, but also that he ate the same food to counter drunkenness as normal people. 

Viktor squinted. “You’re right. Powerade and peanut butter right out the jar!” He left the room with a cheerful bounce in his step, Makkachin following. Yuuri laughed after him. Viktor Nikiforov was...surprisingly a real slob. How great was that, actually? It was a highly endearing thing to discover, and Yuuri’s heart skipped a giddy beat.

Alone in Viktor’s room then. 

Yuuri plopped himself onto the bed, not realizing just how tired he was until his back hit the plush mattress. The blankets and sheets were full of Viktor’s scent, and Yuuri rolled onto his stomach to bury his face in it, uncaring if this made him look creepy or weird. How could he care about what anyone else thought when somehow he ended up in such a fantastic place?

_ I’m in Viktor’s apartment. I’m on his  _ bed _. Phichit won’t believe this. ...Oh. _ Yuuri fished out his phone, and as he suspected, there were five text messages and two phone calls he missed from his best friend. He called right away.

The call was picked up right away. “ _ Yuuri _ !”

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me! I just lost track of time.”

Phichit huffed into the receiver, but Yuuri knew he wasn’t actually mad. “ _ I just wanted to make sure you’re safe. Are you still at the club? Do you need me to pick you up? Where’s Viktor? _ ” 

“Um.” Yuuri started from the last thing. “Viktor’s in his kitchen. I don’t need you to get me, I’m--”

“ _ YOU’RE IN HIS APARTMENT!! Oh my GOD-- I’m-- Well, that’s-- Oh boy, I’m-- _ ” Phichit sounded torn between being utterly ecstatic and on the verge of jumping in his car to save Yuuri from whatever the hell he was picturing. He made tortured sounds. “ _ I mean, oh god, will you-- You’ll be okay, right? _ ”

“He’s not screwing me, or me him,” Yuuri said, making a conscious effort to not slur his words so that Phichit knew he meant it. Then again, his pants were already off, and his shirt was pushed up his stomach. He tossed the sheets over him, like Phichit would be able to sense his indecency if he didn’t.

It did the trick; Phichit put some trust in him. “ _ Alright -- but, like,  _ call  _ me if you need anything, alright? I mean it, Yuuri Katsuki! I’m not above breaking through Viktor Nikiforov’s door at one-hundred miles for you if he harms one hair on your precious little head! _ ”

Yuuri smiled. He knew Phichit meant that. “We’re just gonna eat some peanut butter then go to sleep with his super fluffy dog.” 

“ _ Aww, how domestic~ Alright, well have fun with your  _ darling  _ Viktor _ ,” Phichit lilted with a laugh before hanging up. 

As if summoned, Viktor pranced through the door, balancing two plastic bottles of blue liquid and an open jar of peanut butter with two spoons stuck in it in his arms.

“Wow, you already made yourself  comfortable.” Viktor sounded a little more sober, the alcohol wearing down after their long night, but his cheeks were still flushed, his grin still a touch too wide. He flopped down next to Yuuri, and Yuuri put a spoonful of peanut butter in his mouth. 

“I thought for a second you were went through my closet; the sheets look like a dress around you.” 

Yuuri stood up, bringing the sheet with him and smoothing the red folds over his legs. “Katsuki original,” he said, jutting his hip out in a silly pose. 

Viktor whistled. “You would make a fabulous model, Yuuri~ You look good even in my bedsheets.”

_ Sounds dirty _ . Yuuri rolled his eyes at the compliment, but he still managed to laugh. He took it back -- Viktor was still clearly drunk if he was saying things like that. 

“I dunno, these would probably look better on you, wouldn’t they, Russian Red?” He unraveled the sheets from his body and tossed them over Viktor’s legs. 

And suddenly, being half-undressed anyway, he  _ was  _ curious what Viktor Nikiforov’s closet looked like. His apartment was big, but he expected a model to have a closet the size of this place. Or maybe he simply had a drawer of jeans and faded shirts dangling half-off the plastic hangers -- doubtful, given what Viktor wore, and Yuuri’s wonder burned more as he wove unsteadily through the mess on the floor to the other door in the room.

He placed his hand on the knob and looked back at Viktor. “Can I?” 

Viktor sat up on the bed, hair already slightly unkempt. “Go ahead. Pick something out to wear too -- anything you want.” The glimmer in his eyes suddenly had a lot less to do with that last whiskey cocktail and a lot more with  _ interest  _ and  _ desire  _ and  _ curiosity _ . It was a fervent kind of anticipation and excitement that Yuuri could feel like hands nudging him along against his spine, and he opened the door.

Viktor didn’t own a closet. 

As Yuuri turned on the nearby switch, he saw that the door led to another  _ room  _ entirely, and racks and shelves had been installed along the walls. A long, slender mirror was hung up in the middle of one, where Yuuri could imagine Viktor stood in front of each day, checking his reflection as he adorned himself in one of the many outfits bursting in the room. Racks of boots and heels and flats and other shoes had a whole half wall to themselves. Yuuri could make out sleeves of every color and material, pressed and sparkling and beautiful, coats and shirts and even dresses. Some Yuuri recognized Viktor wearing before -- either in person or in magazines or Twitter images -- and countless others he didn’t even realize were a style Viktor liked or would wear. 

He suddenly felt incredibly silly and out of place just standing here in his worn boxers and sweat-alcohol-soaked shirt. 

The logical thing to do, he supposed, was to take them off and do what Viktor suggested. 

Pick something out.

_ Wear it _ . 

When he turned back to Viktor this time, Yuuri felt simultaneously heavy with sobriety and lightheaded with the possibilities that overwhelmed him. 

“Are -- are you serious?”

Viktor nodded encouragingly. “Go inside and help yourself. Put on a personal runway show for me, Yuuri.”

“I-- There’s no way I can  _ fit  _ in anything. Are you crazy? I’ll--”  _ I’ll look silly. What if I ruin your clothes? Oh my god, what if I throw up on them? _ “What if I look ridiculous? You’ll laugh.” Yuuri laughed himself saying it, ignoring the damn burn behind his eyes and  _ dammit  _ he really hadn’t wanted to turn into a crying mess tonight, not in front of  _ Viktor _ .

Yuuri would give anything to be someone who just went with the flow, who wouldn’t care about looking silly or gorgeous and could just let  _ loose  _ for once in his life and have some damn fun and play model in Viktor’s closet and laugh like the night would never end. But Yuuri was acutely aware that no matter how many outfits he tried to wriggle into tonight like some drunken Cinderella, the stroke of midnight would come too soon and then -- and then tomorrow he would be back to jittery Yuuri that was too scared to stand out.

Even though he  _ wanted  _ to draw attention, or at least  _ Viktor’s  _ attention, just like he did at the dance floor at the club.

Viktor observed him for a long moment, then drew a sad sort of smile on his lips.

“You know,” he said, slowly stabbing the peanut butter with his spoon, “when I was little, I loved playing in my mother’s closet. I used to bury myself between her dresses and soft blouses, and slip into her heels. None of it ever fit me of course and I looked silly, but it was still so much  _ fun _ . It was my favorite thing to do, and I’d pose in front of her mirror for hours. Well,” Viktor puffed out a humorless laugh, “a little boy in Russia putting on everything in his mother’s closet went about as well as you would expect when I was found out. But -- I mean, I’m here now, aren’t I? My closet is bigger than hers now, full of pretty clothes. I can dress myself up however I want and not have a single care what other people think.”

The spiel grabbed Yuuri’s attention. It was the first time he’d heard about Viktor’s family. His official pages and his Wikipedia only gave the names and relations of his immediate family, and none of them had ever been featured in interviews or photos, even when Viktor visited Russia from time to time. Yuuri always assumed Viktor was trying to keep his family out of the public’s eye, or perhaps they were simply private people. 

But now he started to wonder. He wanted to ask, and honestly there was so  _ much  _ Yuuri wanted to know about Viktor, everything from the little boy in Russia playing dress-up with his mother’s clothes to the messy-haired man with a spoonful of peanut butter in front of him looking at Yuuri like he was trying to know who he’d been and who he was too.

Eventually, Viktor’s smile was more genuine and warm again. “There’s not going to be any judgment here. Don’t worry about what I think. Because honestly, you’ll always be beautiful to me, Yuuri.” He laughed, full of fondness. “Even right now.”

Yuuri’s steadily-cooling skin heated up again with a blush that felt like it filled his whole body. For maybe the first time, he didn’t want to argue Viktor’s words or try to decipher the lie or false flattery in them. 

“Gimmie your make-up,” he eventually said, brushing back his bangs. “If you’re going to make me model for you, then I’m going all the way.”

* * *

It was well past three in the morning, the night at the club sticking to their skin and under their eyes and the corners of their lips, alcohol still sloshing in the corners of their head, but Yuuri did his damnest to be steady and apply his make-up. He found the sexiest shade of red lipstick Viktor owned, and brushed on a bold shimmer of purple over his eyes. At first glance, he thought perhaps it was a bit garish, and the doubt crept in that he wouldn’t be able to pull the look off.

_ Who cares? _ he finally thought, sneering at his reflection, at the anxiety. He stripped off his shirt and added it to the rest of the piles on Viktor’s floor, earning him another low whistle. 

He knew exactly what he wanted to look for in Viktor’s closet. 

Viktor was about sixteen the first time he’d worn it, and back then the loose fabric had draped over his smaller body like an ebony waterfall, and in between was the marble ivory of his flawless skin. He’d donned the dress on again with silver-star leggings when he was twenty-one for a television interview. Most celebrities never wore the same outfit for public appearances more than once, but no matter how many years passed, the dress was clearly a timeless favorite of Viktor’s.

Simultaneously alluring and elegant, the black dress had a plunging neckline all the way down past Yuuri’s chest, and was thankfully made of stretchable material. The straps had dozens of rhinestones like ice crystals attached to them, matching the silver belt cinching a bit tightly around his bigger waist. Mesh sleeves wrapped around his arms, extending down to his hands like long, fingerless gloves. The handkerchief skirt fluttered over his thighs in wavy lengths. 

It was the most revealing thing Yuuri had ever worn, and his body filled the dress out even more, his plush thighs clearly noticable and the skirt just barely covered his ass. The cleavage of his chest and his back were exposed. It showed so  _ much  _ of him, absolutely nothing about the dress gave him opportunity to hide...

Even so… Yuuri pulled on the shiny, black ankle-strap heels, and exhaled a baited, exhilerated breath as he crept out of Viktor’s closet. 

Viktor was still sitting on his bed, now completely shirtless and poppy-red sheets tangled around his hips, the scene resembling a bit too much a man waiting for the sexy surprise of his lover. His eyes flickered up at Yuuri’s re-appearance, and remained frozen on his image. 

Unlike when Viktor gazed at his reflection after Yuuri applied his make-up, his expression clearly displayed his thoughts right away. His lips parted, eyes growing wide, a deep flush spreading over his cheeks. He whispered something reverently to himself in Russian. He looked so stunned and captivated, so endearing and lovestruck, and the boost of confidence brought a smile to Yuuri’s lips.

It took some manuevering, considering the mess on the floor and the fact that Yuuri had only worn heels once prior to this, but he walked towards Viktor with his chin tilted up, swaying his hips and silently  _ daring  _ to be looked away from, as he’d seen Viktor do on the runway countless times. 

There was a flutter throughout his body, of feeling tall and wonderful -- almost childishly giddy, like he was ten years old again and playing in Minako’s closet and with her make-up. It was a liberation, and now that Yuuri was an adult, he could gear that confidence to raising a leg up and step a dominant heel down mere inches from Viktor’s thigh, the skirt hiking up higher as Yuuri splayed his hands on his hips.

He heard Viktor go breathless.

“So,” Yuuri murmured, tilting his head, “which career do you think suits me better in the end? Stripper, or model?” 

Viktor opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He kept glancing at Yuuri’s bare thigh, at his chest, his face, trying to drink it all in. He looked like a lost, ruined man, and he ended up laughing at the vision overwhelming him.

“Well,” he finally said after a swallow, “I’m definitely right. With a look like this and strut like that, you have the makings of a model, Yuuri Katsuki. I almost wish I was a designer, so I could adorn you in clothes myself. You’re definitely inspiring me.” 

The shy smile crept back on Yuuri’s lips. “I think I’ll stick to private runways in your closet.” He was starting to wobble a little balancing on one heel, and quickly collasped onto the bed before he could make a fool of himself and stumble all over Viktor. “Heels,” he said, raising his legs up, “how on  _ earth  _ do you do them?”

“Lots of practice,  _ zvyozdochka,” _ Viktor said, easing himself onto the bed as well, smiling down at Yuuri. He playfully slapped at his thigh, and Yuuri brought his legs down with an embarrassed sound. “I could give you lessons, if you’d like.”

Ahh, heels had always appealed to Yuuri. Mostly for aesthetic reasons though, since he could never imagine actually walking in them without looking like a newborn deer. “Maybe someday,” he hedged. “By the way… I really want to know -- what is it you keep calling me?” 

Viktor’s eyes grew soft, as did his voice when he said, “ _ Zvyozdochka.  _ It means ‘little star’. I call you that because that’s what you remind me of; a shining light even when shyly hiding in the darkness. Yuuri Katsuki, my beautiful  _ zvyozdochka.”  _

It sounded like a declaration, a promise, when Viktor spoke his full name like that and laced it with such a tender diminuitive. Yuuri held onto it, wrapping it around himself like a blanket. What he  _ really  _ wanted was to wrap himself in  _ Viktor _ , to toss his arms around him and curl up in his warmth, to tangle his fingers in his hair and breathe sweetness against his lips too. 

That was probably when Yuuri realized it. Why it was he couldn’t come up with that “but”. 

This -- this  _ thing,  _ these  _ feelings,  _ he had with Viktor weren’t something as distant as admiration or an infatuation. It wasn’t TV screens and magazines and online articles. It was laying in Viktor’s bed shoulder-to-shoulder with him, wearing his clothes, breathing his scent and--

And--

“I don’t understand why you think I am,” Yuuri finally said, and for once, it didn’t have the weight of self-deprecation to it. He shifted to turn his body towards Viktor, propelled forward by desperation, a need, an overwhelming fondness breathed right into his words. “You’re the beautiful one.” 

Viktor let out a short laugh, and it sounded like Yuuri’s insecurities had transferred into Viktor. 

Which was surprising, if not  _ worrying _ . 

“Perhaps not for long.”

It was happening again. Viktor was changing somehow before Yuuri’s eyes. Starting with his words that were starting to reveal something, and bit by bit, a Viktor Yuuri didn’t know was unfurling himself. It was a vulnerability, a humanity, and Yuuri wouldn’t let the opportunity to ask about it slip by again.

“What do you mean?” 

Viktor continued to stare at the ceiling, like he’d find the words he was searching for scrawled on it. “Well,” he finally began, “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not as young as I used to be. It’s ridiculous how long I’ve been in this business, and I’m already going to be thirty, you know.”

“Why does that matter? I feel like you could be an eighty-year-old relic and still be beautiful,” Yuuri said with a small laugh. He meant it. 

“You’re too sweet, Yuuri. But, well, I  _ am  _ a model. Top model of Stammi Vicino, sure, but we both know how the brand constantly changes. Constantly rebuilds. Even my own image is reinvented each time I enter the dressing room.” A frown knit between Viktor’s brows, as if a thought just occured to him, his words growing far away. “Nothing...really stays constant in this place.” 

“Viktor?” 

Viktor turned to him, offering that smile that Yuuri hated, why was he just realizing how much he  _ hated  _ that Viktor tried to fool him and keep him at arms-length?

“Yurio,” he suddenly said, “and the new models. I wonder if they’ll be able to handle the pressure. Well, they’re young. They still have time to learn and adjust. But Yurio is really talented, so I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Suddenly, it all clicked, and the revelation made Yuuri’s chest grow cold. He remembered how Viktor looked at Yuri during the photoshoot, how self-conscious he got about his wrinkles and if his hair was getting thinner, how loudly Viktor laughed when the tabloids suspected he was getting replaced in Stammi Vicino since he wasn’t in Fashion Week, how Viktor insisted again and again that he needed Yuuri because he made him feel  _ beautiful  _ and--

And Yuuri knew it was  _ horrible  _ how he latched onto that last thought when Viktor was the one trying to come to painful grips with what he was feeling. So he ignored the tight compress of his lungs, the shake quivering through him, and reached out, touching Viktor’s arm. 

“Yeah, I think he’ll be fine. He’s stubborn and knows what he wants, like a certain other model I know.” 

Viktor released an amused breath, and it fluttered over Yuuri’s cheeks. The shine had returned to his eyes, reflecting on his long, silver lashes. 

They were close. So close. Yuuri didn’t know what he wanted to do first with this proximity, assuming he  _ could  _ do anything, but Viktor -- true to Yuuri’s accusation -- knew exactly what he wanted. 

With warm hands and strong, bare arms, Viktor pulled Yuuri to him, cradling him close to his body. Heat bloomed endlessly through Yuuri’s body, the skin of their chests sticking together, his nose bumping right against Viktor’s prominent collarbone. But they rested against one another so _perfectly_ , smooth bone and ample flesh, their body heat mixing into one, their lungs expanding and compressing into a shared rhythm the longer they laid in silence together. 

The dress had rustled and shifted, a strap hanging off Yuuri’s shoulder, the skirt bunched up to his hips. He still had on all his make-up and the heels but Yuuri wasn’t sure anything could pry him from this special place here in Viktor’s arms.

“Then like this,” Viktor finally murmured into his hair, sounding sleepy. “Let everything stand still for once and let’s just be like this.”

Yuuri felt Viktor’s heart beat through the threads of fabric and his own skin. He closed his eyes.

“ _ Oyasumi _ , Viktor.”

“Hmm?”

He smiled against Viktor's chest, so close that he could easily place a kiss mark on the pristine skin. Tiredly, and so softly, he did brush his lips there. “Goodnight.”

Viktor hugged him tighter, humming fondly deep in his throat. 

“ _ Spokoynoi nochi _ ,  _ zvyozdochka.” _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Lots to unpack this chapter. By the time I realized as Yuuri's confidence went up this chapter and Viktor's angst levels went up too, I was already super emo. I hope you enjoyed reading nonetheless :")) 
> 
> Talk to me on twitter, @RenOnIceCream!


	7. you tried your best to be a friend to my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience again as I tried to dish out this chapter. I know I didn't reply to everyone's kind comments last chapter, but know that I read every single one (sometimes multiple times) and I greatly appreciate the love! You guys fill me with such warm feelings <33 I hope you're ready for the ride!
> 
> Chapter title is from "A Million Little Pieces" by Placebo.  
> I lowkey want to make a spotify playlist for this au. I already have one on my laptop so hey, why not. Look out for a link later.
> 
> BEFORE WE DIVE IN, please take a look at [this art](https://twitter.com/vanillabean_97/status/841584492980535296) vanillabean drew of a gorgeous young Vitya in the dress from last chapter! So lovely!! <33

When Yuuri roused from sleep with a horrible grogginess weighing on his body, several signs alerted him to his current condition:

The heavy, gross taste in his mouth, the uncomfortable churn in his stomach every time he so much as shifted, the now sticky mess of make-up on his face…

When Yuuri’s eyes adjusted to the bright daylight through the blinds, he realized an arm was draped over his waist. Testing the stretch of his limbs had him pressing back against another body, their buzzing snores tickling against the back of his neck. 

A scent under the drench of dried sweat and stale alcohol hit him, a scent he was used to decorating the collar of one top model that brushed over Yuuri’s face every time said model hugged him.

Yuuri  _ shot  _ up and turned over.

Viktor Nikiforov was sleeping right beside him. 

He was sleeping beside Yuuri half-naked -- at least he  _ hoped  _ it was half. Yuuri wasn’t brave enough to lift the sheets any lower.  _ Especially  _ since red lipstick was smudged all along Viktor’s collar and chest. With one swipe of his fingertip over his lips, Yuuri saw that he was wearing that same lipstick.

_ Oh my god _ ...

This was Viktor’s bed. This was Viktor’s apartment. And quick self-inventory showed that Yuuri was wearing Viktor’s  _ dress  _ and  _ heels  _ while Viktor wore nothing but sheets and the afterimages of Yuuri’s ruby lips.

_ Oh. _

_ My.  _

_ GOD! _

There was a shift beside him, and Viktor groaned in sleepy protest, his arm trying to pin Yuuri back down to the bed again. Yuuri shot out of range. He ended up getting his heels tangled in the sheets, and he fell off the side of the bed with a yelp and loud  _ thump _ !

His heart pounded in a rhythm that quickly shook off his grogginess to give way to a mounting  _ panic _ . More than convinced that he was going to scream, he slapped a hand over his mouth. He laid there, waiting to be caught, but Viktor was apparently a deep sleeper. Yuuri heard him shift on the bed with another groan before returning to his snoring. 

Yuuri closed his eyes, still laying on the floor as he tried to recall the events of last night. Bits and pieces came back, of he and Viktor going to a club with Chris and Masumi, of dancing under the lights with Viktor’s hips under his hands, of kicking off his pants inside a taxi, of pulling the black dress down his body… 

Yuuri untangled himself, and kicked off the heels for good measure. How the hell had he put those on with shots of vodka in his system? That was astounding. Drunk Yuuri, while incredibly stupid, had hidden talents. 

Speaking of incredibly stupid...

The lipstick marks. The make-up. The laying in bed together with  _ Viktor… _

Yuuri found his glasses then tip-toed to the adjacent bathroom and took a good look at himself under the skirt of the dress, but nothing seemed to be amiss. He released a breath. Okay. Good. At least he didn’t have to worry about any hanky-panky happening last night. He’d had one or two alcohol-induced hook-ups back in college, but he knew that he didn’t want to have that awkward sneak-out-of-bed-before-his-partner-woke-up situation with  _ Viktor _ . Their relationship was complicated enough without Yuuri making a bigger mess of it because he couldn’t put a lid on his feelings while drunk.

As for the lipstick marks, his mind calmly reasoned that he’d probably rubbed his face all over Viktor last night, and that were not sloppy, passionate kisses like he was so afraid of. 

Yuuri looked up into the mirror, jumping at the horrid reflection that greeted him.

“Oh my god, I’m a  _ prostitute _ .” His make-up was smudged to all hell, and his hair was messy on top of it. If anyone came into the apartment now, they would  _ definitely  _ get the wrong idea of what he and Viktor had been up to last night.

In searching for make-up wipes, Yuuri found his shirt crumpled on the bedroom floor. With a grimace, he settled for rinsing his face and drying off with the inside of his shirt. He vowed to take a proper shower and treat his poor skin to better care once he got home.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, face clean and sporting a now half-wet shirt, Viktor had roused from his sleep. Makkachin had appeared and laid next to his owner. Viktor held onto his dog to sate his cuddling needs, then lifted his heavy eyes when he caught Yuuri’s movements. 

It was too late to hide, and Yuuri froze like he got caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“Oh, Viktor. Uh -- m-morning.” 

Viktor took in Yuuri’s bare legs, then his face. The events of the night slowly came back to him as he pieced this sight together, and when he got a better picture of the situation, he gave a pleased hum. 

“Morning, Yurochka.” His voice was thick and sleep-heavy, making his words drawn out in a way that elicited a pleasant shiver down Yuuri’s spine.

“I was, um -- have you seen my, uh -- pants? Or my phone?” 

“Nope,” Viktor said, surrendering without even trying as he flopped back on the bed. He brought Makkachin down with him. “Mmn, how long have you been awake? You already changed so quickly, Yuuri.” 

“Oh! I hung your dress back up, don’t worry. Sorry I fell asleep in it. And that I was, uh, wearing it.” Yuuri felt awkward standing pantless so he went back to the bed and raised the sheets over his legs. He noticed the bottles of Powerade still on the nightstand and took the one he hoped was his for a drink. 

Viktor took a peek at him over the fluff of Makkachin’s fur, long silver lashes glittering in the sunlight. “Why? I was the one that told you to wear it, remember?” He smiled at the memory. “You were so stunning last night, Yuuri, in so many ways.”

Flashes of dancing so closely with Viktor, their hips grinding together, hands under their shirts, Viktor singing breathlessly against his neck, all colored Yuuri’s mind in a seductive, smoky haze. Even though Yuuri was  _ quite  _ certain they didn’t so much as kiss -- much less fuck -- it felt like they had done just about everything else in that club. 

His memory jumped forward to him in heels, leaning down on Viktor, skirt riding up his thighs... Yuuri’s cheeks  _ burned  _ at the memories, and he blinked quickly to try to forget his embarrassing behavior. 

“Oh god, sorry if I said or did anything, I’m -- I can be a handful when I drink.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning.

“Shush, you were nothing of the sort.” Viktor lazily stretched his leg out, stroking his foot over Yuuri’s thigh. “I had a  _ wonderful  _ time last night, Yuuri.” Viktor stretched more, his back popping before he sat up. His hair was tousled, even moreso when he ran a hand through his bangs. Both of his clear-blue eyes were visible now, and both of them were glancing over at Yuuri. 

“Coffee?” he asked. “Then we can resume Mission: Find Some Clothes.”

“I-I’d rather have my clothes  _ now _ ?” 

Viktor reached over and slapped the peek of Yuuri’s bare thigh under the sheets. “You look lovely, Yuuri. Or shall I say  _ ravishing _ ?” He winked, charming even right after waking up. “Don’t worry about it. Now come on.” 

Yuuri settled for stealing the sheets around himself as he followed Viktor and Makkachin to the kitchen. He plopped down on one of the dining room chairs, watching Viktor shuffle around and listening to the clink and pour of the coffee pot.

Yuuri couldn’t believe it. He was in Viktor’s apartment, tangled in his sheets, and Viktor was making them both coffee after they woke up  _ together  _ in bed.

_ This is...awfully domestic. _ It was like Yuuri had always woken up like this, like Viktor always settled mugs between them, their ankles brushing under the table as they worked the taste of alcohol out their mouths and dry exhaustion from their bodies. Yuuri took a sip from his paw-print-covered mug, surprised to find the coffee already rather sweet.

“I gave you some sweeteners and cream,” Viktor said in answer to his astonishment, stirring around the ice he’d added into his own coffee. “I’m no Starbucks barista, and there’s no whipped cream, but I made it with lots of love~ Do you like it?” 

Yuuri’s heart fluttered -- from the first surge of caffeine or the shine of Viktor’s eyes, he couldn’t say. But he couldn’t hold back a smile behind the rim of his mug. 

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Viktor.”

“My pleasure, Yuuri~”

 

* * *

After they finished properly waking up and Viktor had finally cleaned Yuuri’s make-up from his chest (“Aw, Yuuri, I don’t want to wash off the little presents you gave me last night~ Your kisses are so cute~” “Oh my god, Viktor, they’re  _ not  _ kisses! They’re  _ nooot _ !”), they faced the disaster of Viktor’s bedroom to locate Yuuri’s belongings.

Yuuri ran confused hands through his hair after overturning Viktor’s bed for the fourth time. “There’s no way my things just  _ disappeared  _ in your room.”

Viktor laughed, helping Yuuri by sifting through his clothes piles -- all he was really doing though was relocating the piles to another space on the floor. “You’d be surprised. I lose things in here all the time, so often that Mila likes to say that my room is a gateway to the ninth dimension.”

“That’s not something to be proud of,” Yuuri said dryly. “A model should be taking better care of their clothes.”

“I have so much, so what’s the point?” Viktor said, staring at Yuuri like the basic act of regularly washing and hanging up his outfits was a foreign concept. Viktor probably never had to worry about not having the right thing to wear, or run out of outfits to put on -- that didn’t mean that Yuuri didn’t feel bad for the designers that ended up having their expensive creations dumped unceremoniously on Viktor’s floor.

Yuuri was wondering how weird a look he’d be given if he proposed cleaning Viktor’s room when Viktor resurfaced from a pile and shouted, “AHA! Found your pants~!” 

Yuuri pressed a hand over his relieved heart. “Oh thank  _ god _ . I was starting to wonder how I’d leave the apartment in my underwear.”  

Viktor yanked the pants out of reach when Yuuri tried to take them. “Oh? Then it’d be a shame if your pants just happened to disappear and you’d have to stay here  _ forever _ .”

“Viktor!” Yuuri gaped. “N-no, give me back my pants!” He lunged for them, but Viktor only waltzed right out of the way of Yuuri’s grasping hands and laughed. 

They engaged in a childish chase around the bedroom -- rolling over the bed, dodging a jumping Makkachin ready to join the playful ruckus, and stepping through the clothes piles. Viktor’s feet ended up tangling into one and he dropped to the floor with a disgraceful  _ thump _ ! But he was unfazed by his loss, laughing away even as Yuuri snatched his pants back. 

Yuuri was breathless, grinning in triumph. “ _ That _ ’ll teach you to clean your room.”

Viktor lightly kicked at Yuuri, who quickly pulled his pants up. “Oh shush, you.” 

* * *

Next on the list was his phone. Too daunted to face the ninth dimension yet again, Yuuri just let Viktor call it.

“You have quite a knack for losing your phone,” Viktor teased, still laying on the floor.

“I’m blaming your room for eating it this time.” Yuuri listened out for his ringtone, eventually making out the lyrics of “History Maker” being muffled somewhere. He searched through the blankets, but didn’t get far before Viktor declared,

“Oh, found it!”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows, impressed. “You’re...kinda good at this.” 

“I’ve adapted from living here~” Viktor pulled Yuuri’s phone from its hiding spot under the bed, but he didn’t give it back right away. Instead, he hung up on himself, then stared at Yuuri’s screen. A sparkle bloomed in his eyes as he admired what Yuuri knew was his wallpaper. 

Even after all these weeks, Yuuri kept the photo of their first selfie together as his phone background, a memory he cherished with all his heart. Of course, back then he had done it because he was convinced he’d never get that close to Viktor again -- but now, he got to see his face in person almost every day. The Yuuri in the photo would never believe he’d one day sit in Viktor’s very bedroom like this after dancing the night away with him.

Of course, now he felt like a Cinderella that had overstayed his welcome, his gilded self traded back for alcohol stains and pumpkins and embarrassing phone wallpapers that showed how obviously obsessed he was with his prince.

Yuuri’s breath hitched in a panic, and he quickly snatched his phone away from Viktor’s hand. “Th-thanks for helping me find it! I should, uh, I need-- I’m texting Phichit then!” 

Viktor sat up, following the phone in Yuuri’s hand like it pulled him by a string. His eyes were still shimmering. “You’re so cute, Yuuri.”

“I-I’m not.” 

“The  _ cutest _ ,” Viktor insisted. He came forward, crossing his arms on Yuuri’s plush lap. “We should take another selfie, since it’s been so long!”

 

_ >i’m awake, do you think u could pick me up from viktor’s? i don’t want him to drive, the daylight still burns tbh >_< _

 

**From: Phichit** **  
** _ YES OFC IM OTW! send me the address!! _

 

“Hangover selfies sound awful. I mean,  _ you  _ still look perfect somehow.”

“You should look in the mirror more often,  _ zvyozdochka _ .”

Yuuri laughed, but his heart skipped a beat at the sound of the last word.

_ It means ‘little star’ _ . 

Another cloudy bit of last night came back, of his body sunken into the soft mattress of the bed, Viktor right beside him. Very distinctly, he could recall Viktor’s lips forming the words, “ _ Yuuri Katsuki, my beautiful _ zvyozdochka.” Yuuri’s heart stuttered again, stumbling through the mess of butterflies inside his chest.

Viktor started scrolling through his own phone, grinning. “Oh, past me is brilliant~ I already have some pictures of us at the club.”

“ _ What _ ?” 

“Oh, and Chris sent me some more last night! So many memories, I’m glad we have the night properly documented~” Viktor tapped his phone against his bottom lip, a frown breaking his previously-delighted expression. He looked almost disappointed, the fact cemented by his low whine. “But I didn’t get one of you all dressed up. How could I have been so careless?”

Even if Viktor was distressed, Yuuri was  _ grateful  _ to not have evidence of him looking so ridiculous. What had he been thinking with that make-up? Or trying on a dress that barely covered him? He hoped the image was washed out of both their heads soon.

Phichit arrived within the next twenty minutes, and by then Yuuri was properly dressed and was sure nothing else of his had gotten sucked into the ninth dimension in Viktor’s room. 

He played happily with Makkachin to pass the time. Viktor seemed content to watch, point out where Makkachin’s favorite petting spots were, and what looked like taking photos on his phone.

“ _ Viktor _ ,” Yuuri groaned, burying his face in Makkachin’s fur, “stop that. You’re as bad as Phichit with pictures.”

“Nooo, don’t hide, my Yuuri!” Viktor bemoaned, angling himself every which way to try and get shots of Yuuri’s face. Makkachin came to Yuuri’s rescue, trying to pounce on Viktor and lick at his hands and cheeks, effectively knocking the phone right out of his hands. 

“Ahhk! Makkachin! You’re supposed to be on  _ my  _ side!” Viktor said, but he was laughing. Who could honestly be mad with such a lovable pooch? 

Yuuri’s phone chimed.

 

**From: Phichit  
** _ Hey im here!!! Want me to come up?  _

 

_ >NO.  
_ _ >if you two meet, we’ll never leave. I’ll come down, just give me a sec _

 

**From: Phichit  
** __ :((  
_ why u gotta be so rudeeee  
_ __ don’t u know im human toooooo

 

At the sound of Yuuri’s laugh, Viktor leaned towards him, hugging Makkachin. “Oh, there’s your lover laugh again,” he teased.

Yuuri put his phone away and gave a smaller, tighter laugh. “I don’t know why you’re so convinced I have a secret lover stashed away.”

“Is it so unbelievable? You must have a line of people begging to go out with you.” 

Yuuri snorted. “Okay. Yeah.  _ Right _ . I’m not you.” Then Yuuri realized the opening he’d given himself. 

Although in contrast with his loud, loves-the-spotlight personality, Viktor hadn’t exactly flaunted his boyfriends around in the past; the tabloids would clutch at candid photos of dates, but coverage never went beyond that. Little teenaged Yuuri with his silly crush had personally been grateful that the romance didn’t explode all over magazines and blogs -- even though he’d told himself that as long as Viktor was happy with whoever he spent his life and love with, then he would be happy for him too. 

Now though, Yuuri wasn’t sure how he would handle seeing Viktor tangle his fingers with someone else’s behind the runway curtains, or kiss them in his dressing room, going on cute dates and saying something witty that would make Viktor laugh.

He wet his lips. “Speaking of which… Maybe I should be the one asking you where you’re hiding  _ your  _ lover.”

Viktor pointed at himself, surprised at the conversation being turned to him. “But you’re with me so often, you would know if I had a boyfriend, Yuuri.” He said it plainly, like it was obvious that Yuuri would be the first to know if he was plunged headfirst into a red-hot romance. 

When had Yuuri become so central in Viktor’s life that he suddenly earned a front-row seat to the goings-on of his heart?  _ Like friends _ . Thinking of it, Yuuri realized how true it was. They really  _ were  _ friends. He  _ enjoyed  _ spending time with Viktor, immensely. He enjoyed learning more and more about him, about what made him smile and upset, that he was a horrible singer and that he even snored at night, that he was a glamorous model but even even more dazzling  _ person _ . 

Even last night was fun, embarrassing dancing and dressing up aside. Yuuri’s heart had found a pleasant comfort in the days he passed with this man.

Another text from Phichit made his phone chime.

 

**From: Phichit  
** _ r u two done kissing goodbye??  
_ _ Well take ur time, i’ll park the car B)) _

 

Yuuri cleared his throat, shoving his phone in his pocket. “So that’s that then. We’re both happily single.”

Viktor hummed, as if this were an unfavorable, puzzling situation. “We should fix that.” He glanced up at Yuuri, as if silently asking,  _ Do you have any ideas? _

One came to mind, but Yuuri knew it was just a silly fantasy. He didn’t even want to  _ entertain  _ the possibility of asking Viktor to go out with him, because that was just insane and  _ impossible  _ and there was  _ no way _ Viktor even thought about building that kind of relationship with Yuuri, even light-heartedly. 

Yuuri’s romantic feelings were such tangled, abstract things that ruined many relationships, but he absolutely  _ refused  _ to let them ruin this.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, nodding to the front door.

Viktor held his gaze for another few heartbeats, then he sighed, running a hand through his bangs. He got up and opened the front door, and Yuuri slipped out. But he lingered, turning back to Viktor. There was a certain air of being  _ ordinary  _ as Viktor leaned against the doorframe in wrinkly, casual clothes, his hair still a mess, and no make-up on his face. 

Yuuri really loved this Viktor too. He wanted to come home to this Viktor.

_ I don’t want to leave _ .

“You should come by again.” It was like Viktor could read his mind. But there was a note of urgency, as if Yuuri wouldn’t think to return unless Viktor asked him to. He wet his lips. “Makkachin got attached to you fast. He’s going to miss you.”

Yuuri nodded, squatting down to give some loving goodbye pets to said dog. Makkachin panted happily, wagging his tail at the attention. “I’ll miss him too. I’ll definitely come back and visit him.”

“Just him?” 

“ _ And _ you,” Yuuri amended, getting to his feet. He came up too fast though, coming too close to Viktor’s face. If he leaned forward just a few inches, he could meet the tip of Viktor’s nose and his lips. 

Viktor stared at him as if noting the same thing. But his fingertip came between them as he booped Yuuri’s nose. He was smiling, soft and closed-lipped. 

“I’ll see you soon, Yuuri.”

“Y-yeah… See you.”

Viktor waved as he finally tore himself away. Yuuri kept glancing back, and even when he got to the staircase, Viktor was still watching him leave.

* * *

Over plates of homemade blueberries-and-chocolate-chip pancakes, Phichit listened to Yuuri’s recount of the night, or at least what he remembered of it, with eager ears and wide, sparkling eyes. He promised to beg Viktor for those photos at the club since, he reminded Yuuri, they  _ did  _ have each other’s number. Yuuri tried not thinking about the nonsense the two must text each other.  

But even as they laughed over the shenanigans and Phichit teased him, his friend seemed to pick up on the fact that something was on Yuuri’s mind. He definitely wasn’t being as animated in his storytelling as one would expect, especially in contrast to the fanboying Yuuri had done after his first meeting with a naked Viktor. Compared to then, Yuuri was distracted, his voice tapering off more than once as he stared off into space and mindlessly poked at his pancakes.

Phichit shifted to Serious Supportive Friend Mode and tilted his chin toward Yuuri. “So,” he said, lacing his fingers together, “nothing really happened, right?”

“Nothing. I mean, it could’ve easily been different, but I’m glad it wasn’t. I don’t want Viktor grossed out by me. Plus, we  _ work  _ together, so, y’know.”

Phichit tapped a finger to his chin. “Yeah, I can imagine it’d be awkward if you two got into some sexy business then switch back to a professional setting.”

Yuuri nodded, idly passing the butter over his pancakes with his fork until the square completely melted. “Not only that, but… I kinda -- don’t want to do that… I mean, I  _ do _ , but not like  _ that…  _ I picture it kinda -- different, you know? When we have equal footing with our feelings. Is that weird?” 

“Not at all,” Phichit reassured with a smile. “You really dig the guy, so of course you want more to it than a one-night stand.”

Yuuri sucked on his bottom lip. “You think he would’ve wanted a one-night stand? If it had occurred to him to do it with me?” 

Phichit frowned. “It doesn’t matter what he’d want in that case. You don’t gotta mold yourself to act in ways you think Viktor or anyone else expects you to. If you didn’t want to do that with Viktor, then you absolutely shouldn’t.” 

With a sigh, Yuuri put down his fork. “You’re right. I  _ know  _ you’re right. I just can’t stop thinking about last night.” He wiped a hand through his hair. “I can’t stop thinking about Viktor in general. We always have a good time, and he -- he says really nice things to me and I don’t want to stop spending time with him. I like it. I like  _ him _ .”

“Yuuri,” Phichit laughed a little, “we already knew that. You’ve been crushing on the guy for years and nearly passed out when he kissed your cheek.” He laughed again, but when Yuuri didn’t join him, he stared until understanding slowly dawned in his eyes. “ _ Oh _ . You don’t just like him…do you, Yuuri?”

The bottle of syrup in Yuuri’s hand gradually emptied as he drowned his pancakes in the stuff, the sweet, viscous substance akin to the overly sugary feeling in his stomach -- too much of it at once was making him feel almost sick.  _ Lovesick _ , anyway. 

It wasn’t a sudden realization. It had probably been building for weeks now. 

Yuuri was in love with Viktor Nikiforov. His idol, his celebrity crush, now his model and friend -- Yuuri was in love with him. As soon as he could allow himself to think it, it was like every one of his cells were replaced with microscopic butterflies tickling him from the inside out, giving him the feeling of fluttering just a few inches above the ground. 

“Yuuri? You gonna be okay, man?” Phichit looked pointedly at the plate on the verge of overflowing with syrup.

With a groan, Yuuri put the bottle down then scrubbed his hands over his blushing face. “I don’t know what to  _ do _ , Phichit. He’s just  _ there!  _ All the time now! I don’t have to search YouTube to hear his voice, I don’t have to stalk his Twitter to know how his day is.” 

Viktor was there in Yuuri’s life in a beautifully, wonderfully  _ dimensional  _ way. And now that Yuuri got to know such a different side of Viktor, this infatuation he’d had for years grew to a deep, warm fondness that overtook his whole being.

“He’s always there...and I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Phichit offered him a sympathetic smile. “Oh man, you got it bad, huh? Let me guess, it hasn’t even crossed your mind to tell him?”

“Of course not, who do you think I am?” Yuuri sassed.

“Okay, but I’ve been telling you for weeks now that I think you and Viktor are super-cute with each other. Do you even  _ look  _ at the comments on Viktor’s Instagram photos of you two?” Phichit already had his phone out, probably scrolling through Viktor’s profile right then. “You two have supporters already who are  _ begging  _ for confirmation that you’re dating.”

Yuuri sagged back against his chair, groaning loudly at the ceiling. “It doesn’t make me feel better knowing people are expectantly watching my very sad love story unfold.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, I’m sure there’s people who are disgusted with even thinking of their glamorous, perfect Viktor with -- me.” 

Phichit pursed his lips. “It doesn’t matter what  _ they  _ think. This is between you and Viktor. And Viktor always looks  _ happy  _ when he’s with you. Look at the photos! And are you forgetting the man sought  _ you  _ out to be his make-up artist?”

Yuuri closed his eyes. “There’s nothing between us, Phichit. Viktor is so not into me.”

“Yeah, and I’m so not into  _ The King and the Skater _ .”

Yuuri’s phone chimed a few times, and in his unwillingness to move, Phichit picked it up to check his new text. His eyebrows shot up, a triumphant grin on his face. He got up from the table and tossed the phone at Yuuri’s chest.

 

**From: ✨Viktor✨  
** __ [attached images]  
__ btw here’s some photos from last night~ i wont post them on ig unless you’re ok with it  
_ this one is my fave! <333  
_ __ [attached image]

 

Most of the pictures were blurry and dark in one way or another. Viktor must’ve really scoured to find the best ones before sending them. Chris and Masumi were in a few, all of them wearing large smiles or sticking out their tongues and trying to pose provocatively. 

The last one Viktor sent, his proclaimed favorite, was of just the two of them, and had probably been taken by Chris. Viktor’s shirt was slipping off one shoulder, and he was being dipped down by Yuuri, one of his legs lifted in the air. Their faces were flushed and sweaty and glittery, but their eyes were focused on no one but each other and their smiles held nothing short of bliss. Their ballroom-esque dancing was ridiculous in comparison to everyone else’s club dancing but they hadn’t a care in the world. Yuuri’s arms felt weightless with the memory of spinning Viktor around and laughing against his exposed collar.

Phichit ruffled his hair, snapping Yuuri from his stupor.

“Phichit: 1. Yuuri: 0,” he sang in victory.

Yuuri whacked his friend, but it didn’t stop him from updating his phone wallpaper.

* * *

It was almost May, and Yuuri was painting tiny blue roses and curling stems around the outer corners of Viktor’s eyes, matching them with the boutonniere pinned to his white suit. The hem of the jacket and ends of the sleeves had an explosive design of lavender and light-blue butterflies fluttering up, their wings accented in shimmering gold thread. Yuri had a similar appearance, except with pink roses and yellow butterflies, his long bangs braided and pinned back with shining butterfly pins.

“I hate this, it looks like we’re getting ready for a  _ wedding _ ,” Yuri griped, looking like he wanted nothing more than to wipe his make-up off and toss his clothes out the window. 

“Aww, what’s wrong, Yurio? You don’t want to get married one day?” Viktor grinned at him.

Yuri gagged. “Not a chance in hell. I can’t wait until it starts getting cold again so we can stop with this stupid romance-themed crap.”

“I think you look really charming and pure,” Yuuri said. His compliment was sincere, even if Yuri still had Burning Hate for these kinds of shoots.

Viktor nodded in agreement. “This kind of pure love you’re radiating, that’s what they call  _ agape _ , right? Just channel that when we get our pictures taken.”

Yuri tossed his hands up, clearly done with this conversation. “How the hell should I know what that is if I don’t pay attention to mushy crap?”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t say he’s exactly  _ radiating  _ pure love,” Yuuri said dryly.

“How is it that only the piggy gets me in this godforsaken place?” Yuri clicked his tongue, rising from the sofa and pulling out his phone. “Whatever, I’m going to wait downstairs with Mila and Georgi. You hurry up so we can get this over with.”

When Yuri left, Yuuri and Viktor exchanged fond laughs. The teenager talked tough, but Yuuri had come to develop some fondness for him, and couldn’t resist teasing him from time to time right alongside Viktor and Mila. Nonetheless, he also sometimes became Yuri’s ally during a bout of teasing. 

Yuuri brushed on the final touch of Viktor’s gold eyeliner before softly patting his cheek. “Alright, I’m all done here, now hurry and get to your wedding.”

“It’d be nice to actually have a groom greet me though instead of a hotheaded teenager.” Viktor continued to smile, and it stayed on his lips as he checked the reflection of his face in the mirror. His blue eyes softened. “Breathtaking work,  _ zvyozdochka _ .”

Yuuri blushed. Hearing that nickname made him so happy to hear lately, especially now that he knew what it meant, and how Viktor saw him when he said it. He hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling shyly. 

“Well, it’s easy to make you beautiful.” Blame it on the lovesickness, but it was getting easier for Yuuri to say these things out loud.

Viktor practically glowed at Yuuri’s rare burst of honesty. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my Yuuri~” Viktor pulled out his phone, and posed for a few selfies. Yakov would kill him if he knew Viktor was taking photos before the results of the shoot, but Yuuri knew these wouldn’t be posted on Instagram.

“For documentation,” Viktor had explained to Yuuri once. “I want to remember every little detail that you’ve painted on me.”

Viktor put his phone away, then examined his outfit in the mirror once more, smoothing the soft jacket over. “You know, I think you’d look handsome in an ensemble like this.”

“Eh? I-I mean, it’s  _ pretty _ , but I could never be put in clothes like that.” Yuuri waved his hand dismissively. 

“Aw, why not? I can imagine you surrounded by sweet flowers, decked out in pure white while church bells are ringing overhead. You’d be dazzling~”

Yuuri started putting his make-up away, closing compacts and throwing away unusable sponges. “Mmm, I guess a suit would be okay. But to be honest, I mean if we’re talking about  _ weddings _ , it’d be nice to wear a veil. The lace looks so pretty… Gosh, but wedding dresses in general look gorgeous, the trains bursting with flowers and ruffles...”

Viktor raised a brow at him. “Oh? You have a weakness for fluttery, delicate things, huh? Me too, to be honest. Maybe we should ask Seung Gil a favor of making a mix of a wedding suit and dress.” His eyes widened and lit up with inspiration. “Oh, you’d be so  _ precious _ ! I want to draw it now, an outfit just for Yuuri!”

“What? But Viktor, you’re not a designer,” Yuuri pointed out with a laugh.

“But I’ve been a model long enough to have some good ideas too!” Viktor protested. He put his hands on his hips, nodding decisively. “Just you wait, Yuuri, I’ll design something especially for you one day. It might take some time, but just be patient, okay?”

Yuuri had no idea why Viktor was suddenly so passionate about this, especially since Yuuri had no intentions whatsoever to be a model or to ever pose in designer clothes (again), but he decided to humor Viktor. After all, how could he say no to such an earnest face? And who knew, maybe Viktor was actually an amazing designer on top of a model. 

“Okay, I’ll wait. But right now  _ you _ ’re the only model in the room, so let’s get you to the photographers.”

The site of the shoot was in a lovely garden bursting with flowers and greenery. It was a secret corner away from the city, and the bright spring sunlight shone like a halo all around Viktor as he posed. Yuuri’s heart couldn’t regain a normal beat throughout the whole event.

Once the cameras were being put away, Yuuri was startled out of admiring the garden by Viktor calling his name. He turned just in time to fumble with catching a single red rose in his hands with a yelp. He stared at it in confusion, surprised to see it was thornless.

“Oh, you caught the bride’s bouquet,” Viktor sang, winking at Yuuri. “Guess we’re planning your wedding next.”

Right behind him, Yuri made another gagging sound. Right afterward, he shouted, “ _ Don’t just fucking pick flowers off the set, dumbass! _ ”

Both Viktor and Yuuri laughed, their cheeks coloring the same shade as the rose. Yuuri still made sure to keep it.

* * *

Yuuri plopped onto the sofa in one of the studio’s back rooms with a large sigh. Seung Gil was right beside him, thighs crossed, and not so much as lifting his gaze from his phone when Yuuri had entered the room. Viktor had already departed for the set, face freshly made-up, and professional smile ready on his lips before the cameras even started rolling. In just a few minutes, he would be introduced by the talkshow host.

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. “Viktor’s been really busy lately, hasn’t he?”

Seung Gil half-heartedly raised one shoulder. “He’s an important man, so it only follows that he’s busy,” he stated tersely. This in itself was the most that Seung Gil had ever said to Yuuri, who hadn’t really expected a response in the first place.

“Uh… I guess you’re not really the type to get tired? You seem pretty diligent.”

“Of course I am. You can’t slack off with such a renowned brand.” Seung Gil lowered his phone, just enough to finally raise his head and look at Yuuri. “Models may be the ones that everyone sees, but do remember that we’re the ones that adorn them. If we’re not at our best at all times, we’ll make them and the brand look foolish.”

This was definitely the most Yuuri had ever heard Seung Gil speak, and he was starting to prefer it when he kept his communication down to glances and grunts. Yuuri looked over at the refreshments table and stood up.

“I’ll, uh, I’m getting coffee then.” He didn’t want to risk triggering another lecture because he yawned or something. 

Besides, Yuuri already knew he could accidentally fuck up the SV brand by not being enough. That much had been obvious to him from day one. 

There was a television in the backroom already switched on to the talkshow, and Viktor was already exchanging pleasantries with the host by the time Yuuri came back with some coffee, complimenting each other’s outfits and saying how much they enjoyed each other’s work over the claps of the audience. 

Ah, this felt nostalgic -- watching Viktor on TV, giddy with being able to see his idol once again, actually moving and talking instead of simply being a still image. Yuuri smiled behind his styrofoam cup.

The interview went well enough. There was a lot of banter and laughter; both the host and Viktor had matching outgoing personalities full of charm. But about five minutes in, the mood shifted.

“So, Viktor, can I ask you a question? Like, can I get serious with you for a sec?”

“Uh-oh, am I in trouble?” The audience laughed at Viktor’s dramatic show of nerves. 

The host spared a small, tight laugh. “You tell me. I want to bring up all the talk on the internet and the news lately with you and SV. You really stirred up some worries when you didn’t show up to Fashion Week with no warning. Do you want to talk about that?” 

By the hard press of Viktor’s smile, Yuuri could tell that he didn’t want to. But Viktor was nothing less than pleasant with his answer. “It’s as I said on social media time and again -- I was busy with other work and giving some lessons to the new models that Stammi Vicino adopted. I’m the most experienced, so naturally I have a lot of pointers to give.”

“Oh true, you’ve been in the modeling business since you were an early teen, isn’t that right? That’s like, what, over fifteen years? It’s amazing you’ve remained on top for so long.”

The audience clapped and cheered, clearly in well-meaning support for Viktor. But did Yuuri really hear that dig at Viktor, or was he just paranoid? Viktor was still smiling away, so maybe that was just in his head. Still, Yuuri lowered his coffee cup and leaned closer to the screen with a frown. 

“Viktor,” the host said, lowering his voice to a serious tone again, “you know there’s talk, right? How you’re going to be replaced from being the face of Stammi Vicino? They say you’re not a surprise to see anymore, and that you’re being pushed back to make way for the fresh faces. What do you have to say about that?”

Viktor opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Yuuri widened his eyes. Right beside him, Seung Gil cursed, apparently having been paying attention. 

That moment of being caught off guard lasted only for a second on Viktor’s face. He touched his lips thoughtfully. When he pulled back, he looked at his fingertips, though Yuuri was sure there was nothing else but the lipstick he’d put on there. Then Viktor returned to himself, giving an amused hum.

“I think talk like that is unnecessary unless you know how Stammi Vicino works. It’s true that we’re a brand that prides ourselves in surprising people, and we have never failed to do that--” 

“That’s not what critics say,” interrupted the host. “SV’s ratings aren’t as flawless as they used to be.” 

Seung Gil let out a displeased sound through his teeth, glaring at the screen. “What a lowlife. Trying to sabotage SV and our top model with some pointless gossip. I’m calling Yakov.” He got up, pressing his phone to his ear as he exited the room. 

Since Viktor had to remain composed, Yuuri felt like he was feeling twice as much frustration and anxiety for the two of them. His heart was quivering from the chill that had entered his body. 

Stammi Vicino slipping? Viktor being replaced? Why the hell was Viktor being told these things? It felt like a surprise attack! Even the audience had gone quiet, the camera flickering to their astonished expressions, all of them waiting for Viktor’s response with bated breath.

“Do you feel responsible at all?” The host purposefully drew out his words, painfully nailing Viktor down.

_ What the hell is this? _

Yuuri let out a shaky breath. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run on set, grab Viktor’s hand, and take him far away from the glare of the lights and cameras trying to dissect him. But the conversation felt familiar too -- Yuuri could still only remember pieces of that late-night drunken conversation with Viktor, but one clear image was the vulnerable look on his face when he spoke.

“ _ I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not as young as I used to be. It’s ridiculous how long I’ve been in this business. _

_ “We both know how the brand constantly changes. Constantly rebuilds _ .”

“Stammi Vicino is a brand of collaborating artists. We all work to progress our style,” Viktor said, his voice even with an edge of challenge. “We have lots of support, and that’s what propels me forward. Even now, I’m supported by the fans, my agent, my designer, and my new make-up artist.” 

“Right, the one that’s on your Instagram recently and took on Lilia Baranovskaya’s role in your career.” The host was undeterred by Viktor not wavering under the pressure. Instead, his voice thickened, turning to a new target. Yuuri’s blood ran cold. “I tried doing research on him, but it looks like you’re the first important person he’s ever worked with? Don’t you think SV will suffer if it keeps taking in charity cases? Not  _ my  _ words, of course, but I  _ have  _ read through social media comments…” 

_ Oh no _ .

Viktor narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, what?”

_ Oh god, please, no _ …

The host immediately latched on to Viktor’s slip in composure. “If you’re the face of Stammi Vicino -- for now -- then shouldn’t someone with more experience be working with you? You have fans that worry you’ll look mediocre.”

No no _ no no no _ , everyone was going to  _ know _ . Everyone was going to find out that Yuuri was just an unachieved artist, that he was a  _ nobody _ , that there was no reason for him to be anywhere near such a prestigious brand, such a dazzling model...

An old fear resurfaced, just like at the runway show:  _ I shouldn’t be here. I’ll drag him down. I’m the weak link. I’ll ruin everything, I’ll taint his looks and blemish the brand _ . The comfort Viktor had given him back then faded fast from his memory under the heavy press of fear on his chest. It stuttered his breathing, and Yuuri shot up from the sofa, walking towards the door on anxious legs before quickly looping back around to the TV.

There was a hard set to Viktor’s jaw. “It doesn’t matter what others say. It doesn’t  _ matter _ . Yuuri has done nothing but properly represent SV. He’s only ever made me feel beautiful. I  _ need  _ him.”

These were not new words Yuuri was hearing Viktor say. In fact, during these past weeks, they had been a comfort for Yuuri to hear whenever he was unsure he belonged in Stammi Vicino. 

Today they were doing the exact opposite. Because Yuuri remembered that moment in Viktor’s apartment when a new worry began to nag at him.

Viktor said it so many times, that Yuuri made him feel  _ beautiful _ , that he adored his work. He’d driven across the city just to see him and offer him the job as his make-up artist -- coincidentally right as SV was undergoing changes with its models and artists. He desperately held Yuuri close and refused to let him quit.

\--For what? 

\--To make Viktor pretty, to save his career, to cover up the fact that he was getting older?

Was making Viktor’s face beautiful the  _ only  _ reason he was around? Was all that encouragement, all those compliments -- were they all just to keep Yuuri from leaving? Just pretty words like Viktor’s pretty face that would all fade away?

Yuuri felt  _ awful  _ for thinking so poorly of Viktor’s intentions, and surely that was proof in itself how much trust and love he’d invested in this man. But the pain overwhelmed him, stinging the backs of his eyes and nose, where tears quickly formed and fell.

_ He needs me, Viktor  _ needs me _ \-- and my job is to make sure no one looks away from him. _

_ But I just want you to look at _ me.  _ Don’t ever take your eyes off of  _ me. 

But among all the glamour and sparkle of the modeling world, Yuuri could never hope that his feelings would ever reach Viktor, or that he could be noticed under the bright lights. All he could do was support Viktor by pushing him further away and make sure his career remained elevated. So many people doubted that Yuuri could even do  _ that  _ \-- including Yuuri himself.

“No one knows what they’re talking about,” Viktor went on. He sat up straight, looking around. “You know what? I want to properly introduce him. He’s in the back room, could we bring him out?” 

The encouraging cheer of the audience was a muffled sound in Yuuri’s ears. Viktor was smiling, waiting for him. Yuuri was a mess. Hot tears were pouring thickly down his cheeks, and even when Yuuri quickly tried to dab at his eyes, he knew his make-up would be spotty and smudged. 

The cameras briefly switched to a hallway, past a surprised Seung Gil, prying open a door--

Yuuri saw himself on screen, a bright light on his stained face, red eyes, and mussed hair. The cameraman and accompanying staff froze, as did Yuuri, save for the pitiful sniffles he tried to stifle behind his hand. 

He quickly turned away, looking for a corner to hide in, but staff and thousands of eyes seemed to be at every turn -- eyes that saw him being so  _ weak _ , that could confirm how pitiful he was.

_ So weak, so gross, so _ disgusting--

“H-hey, are you okay? Look, I turned it off, it’s okay. I’m sorry, we didn’t know--”

Yuuri dashed out the room, bumping into walls on unsteady legs and a heavy sense of vertigo. Seung Gil called to him in confusion, and his voice echoed numbly in Yuuri’s head. 

Get out, get out, he had to  _ get out _ . It was a desperate survival instinct to keep running away from their voices and the judgmental eyes.

The studio was simultaneously too small and too big, Yuuri felt like he had no room to even breathe, yet he was so  _ exposed, everyone had seen him cry on live fuckin’ television _ !

_ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t be such a baby! _

_ This is what you get. This is what you  _ get--!

This blame felt familiar. Yuuri said the exact same thing to himself back when he’d been called a fag in school for showing up to the school dance with lipstick on his lips and glitter on his cheeks. He didn’t have a date, but Yuuko had encouraged him, and he had felt so  _ pretty  _ \-- until he had an audience watching him being shoved around the gym floor anyway. He’d locked himself in a bathroom stall and scrubbed cheap toilet paper over his face, using his tears to wet the sheets. 

Back then, he’d thought the same thing:  _ This is what you get. _

_ This is what you get for thinking that for once, someone might think you’re worth looking at _ .

 

* * *

Yuuri’s phone chimed and rang nonstop.

Phichit, Yuuko, Minami, and Minako’s contact photos flickered across his screen. Viktor’s photo stared at him too. Yuuri buried his face away from those gorgeous blue eyes and dismissed the call before turning off his phone completely.

It was Seung Gil who found him crawling out of a janitor’s closet nearly forty-five minutes after the show ended. It was a mortifying way to be caught, one Yuuri always feared to be seen in, and he hung his head in shame at how even Seung Gil’s callous frown eased at the sight of him.

As soon as they rejoined Viktor, who was pacing in agitated circles in the parking lot, Yuuri’s shame increased a hundredfold. 

The whole nation didn’t just see Yuuri cry,  _ Viktor  _ had too. Somehow, that felt a thousand times worse, given how many times Yuuri swore to himself he’d be strong in front of Viktor. Of all people, he didn’t want  _ Viktor  _ to know how weak and pathetic he was.

“Yuuri,  _ there  _ you are! Thank heavens, where did you  _ go _ ? Oh, I was so  _ worried… _ ” Viktor’s hands were everywhere, holding his face and clutching his shoulders and sweeping down his sides as if he’d have some physical injury. Yuuri stared at the peek of his collarbone, not wanting to meet Viktor’s eye.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear,” he said, voice exhausted from crying. His head pounded too much, and his eyes felt swollen and too dry -- funny considering how many tears they just shed. 

Viktor nodded away, as if he could possibly untangle Yuuri’s twisted mass of thoughts and feelings at that moment. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m just-- Oh,  _ lyubov moya, _ I never wanted something like this to happen to you, it’s all my fault. I broke the first rule of being a celebrity and let that man get under my skin. I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me.”

Because he couldn’t summon the strength to say much, Yuuri only brushed off Viktor’s hands. “It’s  _ fine _ , Viktor.” After all, it wasn’t like he could blame Viktor for breaking his composure; Yuuri had shattered for far less before, and now everyone had seen it and he would probably face the backlash on social media later. 

The curdled taste of failure was thick on his tongue, accompanied by the heavy gravity tearing through his chest. 

No matter what Yuuri did, he was guaranteed to ruin things.

Viktor looped an around around his shoulders, hugging him close. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

* * *

It was the longest journey home in Yuuri’s life, and he’d traveled the countless hours between Japan and America before. The only reason that Viktor managed to get Yuuri into his Barbie-pink Cadillac was because Yuuri was too exhausted to fight him.

“I called Yakov. Seung Gil did too. We’ll be talking to that host and his people. Of course, there’s no way to stop the talk on social media -- about me, and...about you as well.” Viktor’s voice grew tight, as did his grip on the steering wheel. He let out a frustrated breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yuuri, I’m -- I’m so  _ sorry  _ this happened, love. I’m so,  _ so  _  sorry that I did that to you. If I had known, I never would’ve drawn attention to you.”

Yuuri winced at the sound of the apologies. He hated how he knew what these words sounded like in Viktor’s voice now.

“But,  _ zvyozdochka--” _

“Don’t call me that,” Yuuri whispered.

The car was still rolling, but Viktor looked at him anyway, hurt and confusion welling in his eyes. Yuuri pointedly turned his head towards the window beside him.

Immediately, Viktor’s voice chased after him. “Yuuri, what’s wrong? Tell me why you were crying back then. Did they say something to you too?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it matters! Who hurt you?”

Yuuri wished he knew too. There was never a single trigger, just a series of little pains amplified by his own age-old insecurities and anxieties. Such small things always succeeded in getting under his skin and chewing at his bones. 

Yuuri blamed himself for not being stronger, better, more beautiful and artistic -- but he also blamed Viktor too. Viktor, who loved to surprise his audience -- was Yuuri being here just a whim to fulfill that temporary excitement? Yuuri felt like that wasn’t true, but it killed him that he didn’t simply  _ know _ , that he hadn’t  _ heard  _ Viktor confirm it.

At any rate… Yuuri had come to a decision. 

Enough talk about this incident was going to happen without Yuuri dragging down Viktor and Stammi Vicino’s name. He was too broken for the realm of glamour, so he was going to go back to what he was used to. He had always been meant for being a forgettable face inside a small salon.

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Viktor.”

“Yes, Yuuri?” Viktor sounded hopeful.

His tongue felt full of ash. “Let’s end this. This -- thing between us. You being my model and all. I don’t,” his throat clenched, his eyes stinging again, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Viktor didn’t reply -- not right away. But the tension that had bloomed in the air was obvious, that neither of them made a single sound. It took swerving into the nearest parking lot before Viktor unbuckled his seatbelt to turn his whole body to Yuuri. His brow was creased, his eyes pinning Yuuri to his own seat.

“Yuuri, where is this coming from? I  _ told  _ you I was sorry. I made a mistake, but please don’t leave. Let’s try and work this out together,  _ zvyoz _ \-- Yuuri.” 

“It’s not that. It’s not  _ just  _ today.” And it was true; if it wasn’t today, then it would just be another day, like a ticking time bomb. “I just can’t do this anymore.” Every word was a battle on his tongue. “I can’t stand this -- this  _ pressure _ .” 

“Did I make you feel pressured? I’m sorry--”

Yuuri’s thread of reason utterly  _ snapped _ . “ _ Stop saying you’re sorry!  _ That’s not some magic band-aid word!” He would know it. He tossed that word carelessly around too. “Viktor, why did you  _ bring  _ me here? Why am I here with you?” 

There seemed to be no easy answer to that. Either that, or Viktor was finally trying to pick out his words around simply quelling Yuuri’s worries. There could only be truth. Eventually, Viktor reached out, seeking Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri recoiled, keeping his hands close to his chest.

Viktor’s hand faltered. “Why do you do that? Why do you keep pulling away from me?”  _ Don’t you know how much I want to keep you close? _ asked the taut thread of his tone. “How can I still go out on that runway, how can I still be a model, if you won’t be here with me?”

Ah, and then there they were, at the crux of the matter. Yuuri mustered a hurt glare at Viktor, his idol, the man he was in love with -- the love he could not fit together with. 

“And that’s all I’m here for, right? To keep you on that runway?” Frustrated tears built up in his eyes, and he started to cry again, lips twisting to uselessly suppress his sobs and his face growing ruddy. He regretted the words as he said them, because he knew that he was close to stabbing the very heart of a long-standing question between them:

_ Why do you want me to stay close to you? Why do you want me to never leave? _

Viktor widened his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he whispered. “Yuuri. Is  _ that  _ why you’re upset with me?”

Yes. To borrow Viktor’s metaphor from last time, Yuuri was worried that he was a piece of clothing Viktor showed off to look pretty, then dumped on the floor to be forgotten as soon as he saw the loose threads, the falling sequins, the worn-in holes.

“...It’s nothing.”

“No! Stop pushing me away! I want to know, but I can’t do a thing unless you  _ talk  _ to me!  _ God _ , Yuuri, just talk to me!” Viktor sounded strained, his frustrated yelling only serving to spike Yuuri’s anxiety.

“I  _ did  _ talk! I’m saying I’m leaving SV! I’m quitting like I should have weeks ago!” Yuuri’s hands were everywhere -- in his hair, curling on his lap, on the door handle. “Now are you going to take me home, or should I go catch the bus?” 

Viktor stared at him with lost eyes and fallen shoulders. The air was so still, that Yuuri hadn’t even known Viktor’s lips were moving until after the words reached his ears.

“You’re leaving…?” Viktor tried to reach for him, to pull him in some awkward, desperate embrace, but Yuuri pushed him away, whimpering out pathetic protests. When he found an opening to their pointless wrestling, Yuuri yanked off his seatbelt and tumbled out the car. 

“Yuuri!” Viktor was halfway leaning over Yuuri’s seat, his hand reaching out for him.

Everything hurt. Every piece of Yuuri was being choked and stifled, and his lungs screamed as he ran down the street, far, far away from Viktor’s voice and hands. 

_ You’ll be a perfectly fine model without me, Viktor.  _

_ In fact, you’ll be a better one. _

 

* * *

Yuuri walked to the nearest bus stop before pulling out his phone in the end to call Phichit. He kept expecting Viktor to come running for him, maybe drive up in Alejandro. But Yuuri was left all alone under the roll of spring rain clouds.

“ _ Yuuri! Are you okay? Minami’s been spamming me about what happened! God, this is crazy, I can’t believe they  _ did  _ that. Give me an update, man, just let me know you’re okay. _ ” 

The flurry of Phichit’s rant gave Yuuri some peace, at least in the sense of his best friend already knowing that his day was shit and that he was here for him. His voice alone was a welcome sound.

“Um…” Yuuri sucked in a breath, but his voice still cracked. “I’m sorry. I turned off my phone. And I’m sorry again because I know you’re at a gig, but…” He licked the salt from his lips. “Phichit, I want to go home.”

“ _ Oh _ .” Phichit managed to keep his voice and his doubtless burning questions down. Years of established patience and understanding filled that one word. “ _ Alright, we’re finishing up anyway. Tell me where you are, I’ll be right over. Do you want to talk about it now? _ ”

“No. No, it’s fine. I just, um…” He forced a bitter laugh. “I’m sorry. I messed up. I gave it a try, but this modeling business really...isn’t for me.”

It never had been.

* * *

It took only fifteen short minutes for Phichit to get him.

It took another twenty to get home and for Yuuri to  _ finally  _ do what he did best, and that was to hide away from everything. He closed the curtains and locked his door despite knowing a trusted friend was on the other side. He shoved the magazines with Viktor’s face staring at him under the bed, along with the spreads tacked to his wall. He turned his phone off again after closing out of all of his missed notifications.

None of which belonged to Viktor. 

Yuuri  _ hid _ , and pretended he didn’t exist. 

It was a familiar coping mechanism. Make-up had allowed him to don a similar illusion before, like a mask he could wear in the outside world to keep him safe -- even when sometimes it did the opposite.

But Yuuri wasn’t sure if he could hide from this. A gnawing guilt, a frightening feeling of loss. When he was little, he used to get bad dreams of being lifted off his feet, higher and higher in the sky, being blown by every every wind until being suffocated by clouds. Nothing could hold him down to the earth. Nothing could ground him.

For a few precious weeks, Viktor’s smile greeting him every morning did. Just like gravity, holding him to something solid.

But Yuuri was drifting again, back into the endless black outer space where he wasn’t Viktor’s little star, but instead this mass of horribleness that was disgusting on the inside and out.

And no amount of cosmetics would erase that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goddammit if self-sabotage yuuri isn't just. the goddamn most relatable. clenches fist.
> 
> well if you thought last chapter had a lot to unpack, then here you are friends, even more! it was. quite a ride to write this chapter, to go from fluffyness and Good Domestic Viktuuris to -- this. orz. but i also had an interesting time finding how viktor's poor communication and yuuri's anxieties would take shape in this au. i hope the struggle came out in a coherent manner; i know my narratives become long-winded messes sometimes :') i hope to write in viktor's pov soon too...
> 
> find me on twitter, @RenOnIceCream


	8. say the word and i'll change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I am SO sorry that it's been *checks calendar* nearly six weeks since I updated. Oh my goodness. I try to write when I can but my work schedule is literally so atrocious, I can't even *rolls* The good news is that this update is a whopping 13k+ and in Viktor's POV, so I hope that serves as a good enough treat for the long wait it's been! Thank you everyone who continued to support the fic, and thank you to each one of you who left a kudo and comment, they mean the whole world to me! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Chapter title is from "Drunken Lament" by Ludo

“You took a look at the applicants like I asked you to, right?”

First thing in the morning and Yakov was already all business. Mila hadn’t even volunteered to go on her usual coffee run, and Viktor gave an exaggerated amount of pause after Yakov’s question.

“The applicants?”

As expected, Yakov’s scowl scrunched heavily on his brow and the bridge of his nose. He curled up a manilla folder in his hands and whacked Viktor’s shoulder with it. “Don’t play dumb with me, Viktor! I’m talking about the applications the new models sent in! I emailed all of them to you two nights ago!”

Viktor laughed in the face of Yakov’s anger and took carefree strides into his dressing room. His favorite cologne was well-saturated into the walls, proof of how long he’d spent in there, how many times he’d dressed in the new lines and how many times he’d had his hair and make-up done. For a model, the dressing room was practically a second home right after being in front of a camera.

Viktor knew exactly what Yakov was talking about, of course. For once, Viktor had been responsible with his job and had gone over each and every applicant that had been sent to him. There was quite a number of them, and Viktor admired their determination and confidence to apply at a high-fashion brand like Stammi Vicino in the first place. As expected, many of the photos they’d provided were impressive, and their looks were quite striking in one way or another. Plenty of them still needed fine tuning, but there was promise for sure.

To think that the year finally arrived when Yakov started consulting Viktor about the new models. It was an honor in its own right, reflective of how trusting Yakov was in Viktor’s experience, even if he turned his nose up at everything else Viktor’s impulsive and overconfident personality led him to do. But Viktor carried out his job without complaint, giving each prospective model his full assessment, and had laid aside several that he thought would match the brand, ones that he knew would do well in the ever-changing and glamorous world of fashion.

For a long time, Viktor had been the center of that world.

Yakov followed him into his dressing room, and crossed his arms. “So? Did any of them stand out to you?”

“I saw Yuri Plisetsky was an applicant. I was wondering when he’d finally crawl out of his mother’s shadow and go after his debut.”

“He _is_ talented, for one so young,” Yakov agreed. “But he’s also arrogant and reckless.” Yakov gave him a pointed look, obviously saying, _Now I wonder who else in SV is like that_. Viktor only smiled.

“With some polishing, he’ll be just fine. Our great Madame Lilia will be his teacher, after all.” Viktor flipped his hair in front of the mirror, fixing his bangs. It was starting to get frustrating to find a balance between stylish while also making sure his high forehead wasn’t the center of attention on his face. How cruel the world was to start thinning his hair when he wasn’t even thirty yet.

 _Getting close, though. Might as well be forty in model years_.

Behind him, Yakov’s frown deepened. “About that. Vitya, I was thinking you could help Lilia from time to time with the training. The new models will really need your guidance and experience, and I think it’ll be good for you too to begin learning how to look after others in this industry. A lot of the young ones look up to you, after all.”

Viktor lowered his hand from his hair. It took a beat too long for him to smile. “They have good taste then~ Maybe they’re applying to Stammi Vicino just to get close to me?”

Yakov rubbed his temples, letting the conversation go with a clear note of exasperation. “Stop being so stupid already and get ready for the _Ruby_ interview. I’ll tell Lilia that you’re here, and Seung Gil already has an outfit for the corresponding photoshoot ready for you. Don’t keep us waiting.”

“As you say, boss,” Viktor lilted, waving at Yakov’s retreating reflection. Once he was out of view, Viktor locked eyes with his mirrored partner, his fair skin glowing in the bright white lights surrounding the mirror. Somehow, the light didn’t reach the clear-blue of his wintry eyes.

What Yakov said, and the unspoken implication between the words, played with a note of finality in Viktor’s head. It brought a strange kind of disquiet in Viktor’s mind, one that had been building up in Viktor’s ears for months in the form of the numbing white noise of gossip and camera clicks and the clack of heels on a runaway. It was only when he was alone that he could feel it seep into his skin.

The stillness continued inside him as Lilia came and did his make-up, highlighting his cheeks and curling his already long lashes. Her elegant but spartan technique always made him think that the day would soon come when she’d put blush on his cheeks the old-fashioned way by smearing his skin with drops of blood.

“Beautiful,” she declared in approval at him once the whirlwind was over.

“Thanks to you,” he replied with a charming wink.

His heart was quiet through the interview, and while Viktor could feel himself smiling and laughing, he couldn’t remember a single word he’d said.

“You’re even more handsome up close. I can’t believe I’ll have the honor of speaking with _the_ Viktor Nikiforov,” the interviewer gushed, barely hiding a blush behind her notepad.

“You’re too kind,” he laughed.

The crimson dress of shining material that Seung Gil had given him swallowed his body, the skirt spilling in waves over his thighs and straps hanging off his shoulders as he laid back on rose petals and stared up at the flashing camera above him. The blinding light that left his vision spotty and the unnerving silence stuffing his ears like cotton made him feel far away, like he was something unreachable. As one of the world’s top models and most eligible bachelors, of course he was held on a pedestal and practically worshipped by his fans and the fashion masses.

It was like floating on a cloud, as soft as the beautiful outfits he wore. But as he laid on the carpeted ground, he got the eerie sense of having fallen down, down, down -- far below where anyone could reach a hand out to him.

“Amazing, Viktor! You’re gorgeous! Flawless!” The photographer’s compliments rained down on Viktor, and he curled his lips seductively in answer, smothering his throat with rose petals.

When had he started feeling this way?

“Beautiful, Viktor, so beautiful!”

He bathed in the camera’s light, staring at nothing. An uncertainty he’d ignored for years thrummed under the surface of his skin. It made him itch everywhere, but no matter how much he scratched, anxiously clawing at his body until his skin grew red and bled, he wouldn’t be sated. But the agitation wasn’t something he could let show on his face, especially during a shoot, and he kept his expression and body language carefully crafted confidence and seduction and promise to pull the audience into his world.

(Even though the fact of the matter was, Viktor would always be separated from them by pages and screens -- immortalized, like a piece of stationary art.)

 _Something is wrong with me. No. It’s just a long day, is all_.

“Alright, that’s a wrap! Good job, everyone! Wonderful, Viktor, just wonderful~!”

The set buzzed with moving staff, the photographers already comparing shots on their laptops as the floor was cleaned up -- but Viktor remained lying there, the dress too heavy on his body and the after-flashes too bright in his retinas to keep his eyes open anymore.

* * *

Glitz and glamour was the tagline of Viktor’s life. Color splashed every corner and made his life vibrant, glitter adorning his cheeks and lips, and gorgeous clothes of luxury wrapped around his body.

Similarly, others loved to craft him into a thing of beauty, highlighting and accenting the delicate, mature features of his face. Other designers would _kill_ to have Viktor model for them at least once, and his schedule was packed with advertising for various clothing lines, make-up, cars, cruise lines, vacation sites, colognes, expensive chocolates and wines -- the works. The world was obsessed with gazing upon Viktor Nikiforov’s face, and adored showering him with camera flashes and idolizing love. It was the image he had built for himself for half his life.

That was probably why Yakov was _imploring_ him to reconsider his decision in who would become his new make-up artist.

On the surface, there seemed to be nothing special about Yuuri Katsuki. His face and clothing were rather plain, but Viktor thought his brown eyes were radiant and his chubby cheeks incredibly cute. He carried himself like he was begging attention to not be drawn to him -- ironic, considering he was standing in the middle of a fashion and modeling company -- and he stumbled over his words throughout his whole first conversation with Viktor.

Of course, that was probably because Viktor was stark _naked_ the first time he laid eyes on Yuuri. But who ever said Viktor was modest?

As soon as Yuuri flung himself to the nearest wall, sputtering apologies, Viktor thought him charming. Awkward, but charming. Yuuri’s large brown eyes and bright blush _begged_ Viktor to tease him.

And well, Viktor lived to tease people, second only to modeling.

“H-hi, I’m Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Yuuri, huh?” Viktor decided he loved how the name felt on his tongue. Sure, he’d said it before when referring to Yuri Plisetsky, but somehow, the name carried a different weight when it came to the man in front of him. _Interesting_. Viktor smiled, perhaps a bit flirtatiously just to make Yuuri’s cheeks grow cherry-red again.

 _Cute_. He’d heard that Mila had found someone to stand in for Georgi, but Viktor never would’ve expected such a shy and jittery person standing in Stammi Vicino’s building. Maybe this Yuuri Katsuki was amazing with make-up? He’d have to be, otherwise Yakov would never approve of this arrangement. He’d grumbled enough about Mila’s decision the previous evening.

Well, apparently all of Yakov’s Russian models were either fools or just suckers for Yuuri’s innocent charm because it wasn’t even a day later that Viktor had come to a similar conclusion that he absolutely _had_ to have Yuuri Katsuki in his dressing room.

“He wouldn’t fit your _image_ , Vitya,” Yakov snapped at once when Viktor had shown up in his office after the new catalogue’s photoshoot, half in a trance and half frenzied with determination.

In retrospect, he should’ve expected this disapproval because Yakov by principle didn’t trust most -- if not _all_ \-- of Viktor’s decisions. This was good because it meant Viktor managed to stay on the straight-and-narrow in the celebrity world that snagged onto every outragous story, but _this_ time Viktor was onto something for _sure_.

On cue, Viktor turned on his charming smile. “Yakov, that’s nonsense. No one can ruin my image. Besides, he’s _beautiful_.” The statement was meant to defend the innate charm he found in Yuuri, but he realized with conviction that it really was true.

In this industry, it was too easy to fall prey to conventional beauty, and to strain yourself past mental and physical limits to uphold those ideals. Stammi Vicino did its best to showcase all types and shapes of beauty, and Viktor was going to do well to remind Yakov of that, even though Yuuri wasn’t a model. Yuuri didn’t need a slender, hourglass figure or high cheekbones or fancy clothing to work here, or just to _stand_ in Viktor’s presence. Viktor wasn’t _that_ unattainable.

Yakov shook his head. “It’s not that, Vitya. He has no experience with models _or_ professional make-up _or_ the fashion world. He has no fire, and without it, he won’t last long.” Yakov wiped a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. “Look, he seems like a good boy. But just tell me why _him_ , Vitya.”

Why him. Why Yuuri Katsuki out of all the other make-up artists Yakov and Lilia had been suggesting for the past month. The other make-up artists were far more experienced, had better instincts, and had _confidence_ in their work that didn’t make them afraid to do something different or unconventional. The fashion world was all about finding the next inspiring element of glamour and beauty and rolling with it at full blast, no regrets or limits. It was a philosophy Viktor adopted as well; it was how he could keep surprising people.

Early on in his modeling career, Viktor had learned to completely immerse himself in whatever it was he was showcasing and advertising. Rather than simply being a plastic caricature, he learned to approach each photoshoot and commercial and runway show as a blank slate. His image would be crafted in the dressing room, and his body was a sharpened tool to put on a performance for the flashing cameras. It was much easier for him to work that way, like every shoot was a new beginning, a new _him_.

Constantly re-inventing himself though meant that somewhere along the way, Viktor stopped caring about building anything that lied beyond the surface of his appearance.

 _Yuuri_ though.

Yuuri was a new _concept_ entirely to Viktor’s world. He was so expressive, even when he shied away or couldn’t meet Viktor’s eyes. Every second with Yuuri was a surprise that Viktor hadn’t anticipated -- every time he thought he had Yuuri’s character figured out, he showed another facet of himself. He was a dimensional diamond among smooth pearls, and Viktor was dazzled, captivated, _intrigued_.

And he wanted to know _more_.

The cincher was coming into Mila’s dressing room when Yuuri was still working, and Viktor paused in the doorway, eyes wide.  

For the first time, Yuuri looked in his _element_. There was a certainty and focus that soothed the anxiety and discomfort Yuuri had displayed before. Joy for his craft shimmered in his eyes, and inspiration moved his hands along Mila’s lips and eyes and cheeks, caressing them all with brushes and pencils. His gaze held a secret vision that he was bringing to life, and every brush of make-up held a clear purpose in his mind; a simple tool of beauty had become color and technique blending artfully together to enhance every subtle, hidden splendor -- overlooked potential bloomed at last to a new, exquisite countenance.

Viktor felt as though Yuuri had unfurled both himself and Mila right before his very eyes, and Viktor was utterly entranced. His heart jackrabbited from that look of quiet intensity on Yuuri’s face, like he’d barely registered anyone, and only saw color and shades and glitter. It wasn’t an aura of indifference for the world or for his model -- there was simply that much passion and inspiration that drew him to his inner world, painting it all on Mila’s face.

To say his work on Mila was gorgeous seemed like an understatement, giving no justice to the whole, deliberate process that led up to the finished product.

 _Him_ , was all Viktor remembered thinking, the desire shaking him to his core. _I want_ him _to paint my face. I want to be under his fingertips_.

\--There was no way that Viktor could convey all of this to Yakov though, and he settled for saying, “You said I have a lot to teach people in this industry, right? I think I could definitely teach Yuuri a thing or two about the fashion world.”

And, maybe, there was something Yuuri could teach him too.

* * *

Except Yuuri didn’t _want_ him.

Viktor had texted him for _days_ , and getting Yuuri’s number in the first place was an intense mission that involved stealing Yakov’s phone right from his coat pocket. Yuuri gave lukewarm responses in his texts, and calling him hadn’t gone over much better.

Viktor was not used to _not_ being immediately met with eager delight to be worked with. He certainly was not used to being _run away_ from.

Wasn’t everything going so well between them? Had he misread the air when he and Yuuri spoke to each other? True, Yuuri had said that he was a fan, but after all that they’d been through, he thought Yuuri would be over his starstruck shyness. Casual reminder that Yuuri had seen him _naked_ . They had taken cute _selfies_ together! Viktor posted it on _Instagram_! Didn’t that mean they were past the point of strangers?

And yet, Yuuri was suddenly making himself unattainable.

Pursing his lips like a petulant child, Viktor moved his car forward when the light changed to green and called up Mila.

She picked up before the second ring was finished. “ _What’s up, Viktor?_ ”

“I need to know where Yuuri Katsuki works.” He didn’t care if he sounded too desperate by cutting to the chase; Viktor was a man on a mission.

“ _Oh?_ ” Disbelief. “ _Ohh_ ~?” Coyness. Viktor could see the conspiring curl of Mila’s lips. “ _Viktor, I thought you swore off romances to focus on your career._ ”

He laughed, loudly; he had literally never sworn off anything in his life. And forbidding romance? As if Viktor’s heart knew such restraint. “What trashy tabloid did you read _that_ from? Anyway, that’s not the reason. But remember when you said ‘that cutie’ Yuuri wasn’t for me?”

“ _Aha! You want him for yourself now, don’t you? Sly Viktor never wastes time with the cuties, I_ knew _you wouldn’t be able to keep your manicured mitts off of him!_ ”

It was easier to play along, and well, it wasn’t like Viktor was going to deny Yuuri’s charms, even if they were a double-edged sword that was currently keeping Viktor at arms-length. “I want to pay him a visit at the place he works. That salon? I don’t suppose he told you were it might be?”

Mila hummed, thinking it over. “ _Ahh, sorry, no. I mean, it’s not like he sent an actual application where it might be written down_.”

Viktor pursed his lips, his hand sliding to the bottom of the steering wheel. “No, I suppose not.”

“ _Oh, but! You know that adorable tan-skinned boy that was with Celestino? Phichit? He’s Yuuri’s friend, and the one that recommended him to me in the first place. Try asking him_.”

“Mila, darling, you’re a genius, you know that?”

“ _I’ve been known to be a delightful treasure, yes_ ,” Mila agreed heartily.

And thus began the literal game of telephone to Finding Out Where Yuuri Katsuki Worked. Anyone who knew Viktor knew of his persistence and determination -- and most of all, his theatrics. They would say this is exactly the kind of thing he’d do.

After a brief conversation with a rather suspicious Yakov, then an equally-reluctant Celestino, Viktor kept one hand on his car’s steering wheel and the other on his phone to call his next contact.

“ _Oh. My. GOD. Viktor Nikiforov is literally on the phone with me. Oh my god. Yuuri won’t believe this. Amazing. So blessed. Can I tweet this!?_ ”

“Sure, just make sure to tag me~” Something about Phichit Chulanont just made one smile like their whole day had been made. He was definitely refreshing after the past two calls Viktor had gone through. “Say, speaking of Yuuri, could I trouble you for a favor? Yuuri told me he’s a fan, so I’d like to surprise him at work.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie, but Viktor didn’t want to reveal his real reason as wanting to ask Yuuri to be his new make-up artist, lest Phichit decide to spoil the news to Yuuri first.

Surprises meant a lot to Viktor, and honestly, Yuuri deserved the shock after all his floundering the past few days.

He could hear how Phichit’s excitement raised with closed-mouthed screams, followed by something that sounded like “ _I_ knew _it_ !”. Then he took a deep breath. “ _Dude -- Mr. Nikiforov_ \-- yes. _How can I help?_ ”

* * *

“ _What_ are you doing here?”

Viktor decided he utterly _lived_ for that cute disbelieving look in Yuuri’s wide eyes. All the phone calls and pissing off half the city with his questionable (definitely illegal) driving was worth it just to see Yuuri’s eyes sparkle and the tips of his ears grow pink. The sight was nearly ruined by Yuuri’s bangs, nearly long enough to imitate a sheepdog.

That wouldn’t do. Yuuri should show off his face to the world, it was entirely too adorable to hide away. It seemed to be a part of Yuuri’s personality -- hiding, slamming into walls, ignoring Viktor’s texts. The complete opposite of how at ease he’d been when he’d done Mila’s make-up.

_But Yakov is wrong. That fire is in you, I know it is. I just want you to show me again. Can you do that for me, Yuuri?_

“Will you listen to my request?”

Yuuri pushed up his glasses and avoided Viktor’s eyes, like he’d find an answer written on the mirror in Paradise Pink lipstick.

Minako’s salon was stylish, but small. Comfortable. This was definitely Yuuri’s personal bubble of safety, and he seemed to not have imagined for a second that his skill and inspiration could land him a client like Viktor Nikiforov. But finally, his gaze slid back to Viktor, holding back a small, curious smile.

“What did you have in mind?”

* * *

It had been too long since Viktor had felt any kind of giddiness when he got his make-up applied. As a teenager, he nearly bounced in his seat the first time he sat down and stared starry-eyed at the array of compacts and shining tubes on the vanity, more cosmetics in more shades than he had ever known there was use for. He’d grown excited, closing his eyes and anticipating his new look in the mirror when he opened them again.

Tilting his head towards the light, closing his eyes and feeling the first brush of Yuuri’s fingertips on his skin rekindled that youthful excitement in him again.

“Surprise me,” he said. “I want to know what kind of beauty you envision for me. Can you do that for me, Yuuri?”

“...Anything is fine?”

“Anything.” And Viktor meant it. He was always ready for anything when he entered the dressing room, and he never put up a fuss. That was what it meant to approach each show as a blank slate.

As Yuuri started to work though, Viktor felt the color brush over not only the surface of his skin, but beyond it. Shimmering delight and alluring shades coursed through Viktor’s flesh and reached his core. For all Viktor knew, Yuuri was actually giving him a horrible makeover and Viktor wouldn’t know it for all he was fascinated with every push of Yuuri’s fingertips, every delicate dab of creme or lip lacquer. He was convinced that Yuuri wasn’t even breathing with how silent he was; Viktor must have stolen all the air in his lungs, as his exhales whispered out between them.

He couldn’t resist, he took a peek when Yuuri seemed to be done with his eyeliner.

And there he was -- the Yuuri he’d seen before. Up close and personal, his serene, focused expression was even more breathtaking. His shimmering eyes held shades of dark amber that Viktor hadn’t noticed before, like a flame really was flickering inside him, reflecting in his irises.

Actually being on the receiving end of Yuuri’s artistry was completely different than simply observing it. Viktor felt under scrutiny, something he wasn’t unfamiliar with; he was always under the microscope because of his line of work that centered around his appearance, but Yuuri didn’t feel invasive or strict in his gaze. There was no covering of flaws. There was no forcing an ideal onto Viktor. Instead, Yuuri painted his face like he was familiar with every angle and slope already, and worked to bring out something from within to blossom on his countenance. It wasn’t something other make-up artists had ever done with Viktor before, and he was enthralled.

_What do you see in me worth bringing out?_

When Yuuri was done and Viktor looked into the mirror, he knew what it was. Yuuri had so plainly brought it to the surface, like he was magic.

He _grabbed_ Yuuri by the wrist, his body pulling them both forward by warm, thrumming adrenaline. There was no way Viktor would be able to erase these sensations, this vision, and accept anyone else to touch him again.

He spun Yuuri against the door, gazing deep into the enchanting dark well of his eyes beyond his skewed glasses.

“Yuuri, you have to do it. I can’t think of anyone else in the world. If you accept, starting today I will be _your_ model.

“Will you say yes…?”

* * *

Viktor fretted. What if Yuuri just never contacted him again? What if they’d go back to the lukewarm texts before never having anything to do with each other? But Viktor refused to believe that Yakov was right about Yuuri. Yuuri the Make-Up Artist was _real_ , he’d burned passionately right in front of Viktor’s eyes, and set his heart on fire too in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

If Yuuri didn’t give him an answer, Viktor didn’t know what he’d do. Show up at the salon again? It was a quaint place, and he did enjoy that Minami boy’s energy when he talked about Yuuri. That kid was smart, he knew Yuuri was special too.

Viktor stared at his phone expectantly, but the screen opened up to his text messages with Yuuri remained the same. Nothing new. No new message to reach out for him.

\--But then Yuuri surprised him again, delightfully so, by dashing into the golden elevator, catching Viktor like he managed to snag onto a lifeline.

* * *

“ _So what’s his name? You don’t tag him in any of your photos. Are you protecting his identity or something?_ ”

“It’s more that he doesn’t have an Instagram, or so the claim goes.” Viktor kicked through the sea of clothes pooled on his bedroom floor and flopped onto his bed. Makkachin hopped up after him, laying right over Viktor’s legs, effectively pinning him to the bed however long the poodle wished.

What Viktor didn’t tell Christophe was that he was pretty certain that he caught Yuuri scrolling through Viktor’s profile the other day, liking each and every photo. Viktor thought about conducting an investigation, but he had so many notifications every day that there was no way he was going to be able to single out Yuuri’s username. He’d have to pester Yuuri harder for his social media so that he could go through Yuuri’s profiles too. He wanted to know what moments in his daily life that he documented; maybe photos of his family at the Japanese-style inn, or Yuuri getting into shenanigans with Phichit, or maybe innocent selfies in the privacy of his room. Viktor wanted to see them all.

“His name is Yuuri,” Viktor finally said, his lips already drawing in a smile when he spoke Yuuri’s name.

“ _Oh my, I wonder if SV can handle_ two _Yuris. I heard all about that famous Plisetsky boy finally launching his own career with you guys. Must be a fun time._ ”

It was never a dull moment at Stammi Vicino, that was true, and Viktor was sure that that was the reason why Yakov started balding. “Yes, well. If we can handle Michele snapping at every male photographer that comes near Sara and Georgi’s theatrical love life, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“ _Not to mention the King of Extra himself_.”

“Oh, so you finally conceded the throne to me?” Viktor laughed. “Well, my Yuuri isn’t a model anyway. He’s my new make-up artist.”

“ _Oh?_ ” The surprise in Chris’ low, seductive drawl was palpable. “ _That boy is Lilia Baranovskaya’s replacement?_ ”

“Don’t sound so shocked. You haven’t seen him work.” Although, Viktor couldn’t blame anyone that had initial doubts about Yuuri’s capability. Viktor would defend his faith in Yuuri tooth-and-nail since he was the only one who knew what it was like to have his cosmetics done by Yuuri, but… Ever since Yuuri’s new job was secured, he’d been a mess. On more than one occasion, his nerves cost Viktor getting poked in the eye, his lipgloss too saturated, finishing powder spilled on his very expensive shoes, even his small cabinet of cologne clattering to the floor.

Every time Yuuri botched something, he’d withdraw further into himself, arms held close and eyes burrowing at the shining, tiled floor like he prayed to be swallowed by it. Viktor tried to keep him steady and confident, meeting all the mistakes with a patient smile to keep Yuuri’s fire from being extinguished by his nerves. In the end, photoshoots would go well, and Viktor made a point to take selfies of Yuuri’s make-up work with each gig.

When the corners of Yuuri’s lips quirked up in tiny, encouraged smiles, Viktor knew Yuuri would be just fine.

Lively pop music played faintly through Chris’ end. He must’ve been walking through downtown again to scope out the clubs before he decided on one to attend that night. “ _True, but I guess I’ll see for myself soon enough. It’s almost that time of year for our face-off on the runway, after all._ ”

“SV definitely won’t lose, so Intoxicated better be prepared,” Viktor said, grinning at the challenge. He and Chris might have belonged to rival brands, but they still managed to have a good friendship that spanned all the way back to when Chris was still training to be a model at fifteen -- of course, that was before he worked for the sexy sensation that was Intoxicated. Their friendship didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy teasing each other during face-offs for sponsors.

“ _I wish you and your darling Yuuri luck then_ .” Viktor practically saw Chris’ flirtatious wink full of promise before he hung up with a, “ _Ciao, babe~_ ”

* * *

Yakov had already talked to Viktor weeks before that he wouldn’t be flying out with the others to New York for February’s Fashion Week. Viktor knew that he’d have to stay behind, training the younger models in his spare time between gigs to promote Stammi Vicino. It felt a bit pointless, considering that plenty of advertising for the brand would happen at the more widely-covered Fashion Week, but Viktor wasn’t going to bring that up to Yakov. He was going to take his re-assignments with grace.

After all, Viktor was going to have to start getting used to it.

Viktor wasn’t stupid. No one had flat out told him, but Viktor had been in the industry long enough to know how things worked. He knew no matter how beautiful he was, no matter what cosmetics and beauty products he used to try and reverse time on his appearance, he would soon be too old-hat to continue being in front of the cameras. The fashion industry loved looking at new things, and even though Viktor was blessed enough to have made a legendary name for himself, the audience would soon grow curious about the new crop of models. Viktor himself usurped older models when he was first starting out.

Re-inventing. Re-constructing. Building new beauty again and again. Keeping up the surprises. Not only was that the policy of fashion and modeling, it was the very creed of Stammi Vicino itself.

Viktor wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him once he finally stepped out of the spotlight, he had no idea who was going to _be_ after half a life of knowing nothing but modeling, but he wasn’t going to think about it.

He was going to be charming, as he always was, and he was going to keep smiling, as he was taught to do.

It was easier to do that when Yuuri was in his field of vision, which was rather often. Since Viktor didn’t have to be directly in the whirlwind that prepping for Fashion Week was, he had more time to be with Yuuri, and not just in the dressing room. Viktor took him out to cafés and restaurants after work, and sometimes even called Yuuri up just for them to hang out somewhere (mostly after Viktor whined for a good five minutes until Yuuri conceded). Viktor would don ridiculous disguises for the latter -- complete with an outrageous magenta bob wig and bejeweled sunglasses he borrowed from Mila -- at Yuuri’s insistence whenever they went to more open places like the mall.

It wasn’t one of the classier ones, and Yuuri seemed confused why Viktor would want to spend his time eating half-cold pretzels and watching Yuuri try on whatever outfits Viktor shoved in his arms before pushing Yuuri into the dressing rooms, pretending to be a photographer and Yuuri was on a runway. Except it was a narrow hallway in a dusty dressing room and Viktor was using his phone.

He was starting to accumulate a lot of pictures of Yuuri. No wonder Chris finally got curious and asked who it was that had been taking over Viktor’s Instagram. Most pictures though, the real treasures, Viktor kept them to himself. He wondered if Yuuri ever did the same thing; he’d seen Yuuri’s phone background, after all, and while Viktor was chalking it up to Yuuri being a fan, he still thought the gesture _adorable_.

He gazed up at Yuuri under the wig’s long bangs, staring as Yuuri pulled at the jeans that hugged his plush thighs and butt snugly, going on a rant how he didn’t understand the fashion behind ripped jeans, and how he actually didn’t understand a lot of fashion choices in general and speaking of which, there was this one spring collection of SV’s that Yuuri needed answers on, like really, what had Seung Gil been _thinking_ and--

“Huh?” Yuuri pushed up his glasses. “S-something wrong, Viktor? Sorry, I was babbling! I really did like that outfit, I mean, you still looked amazing in it, I wasn’t trying to say you weren’t!”

Yuuri was...cute. Adorable. Actually… He was _really_ attractive. Yuuri always wore such subtle make-up, just enough to draw color and attention to his eyes, his lips, the handsome arch of his eyebrows… For someone that loved to hide his face and body, it was strange that Yuuri had a profession that was all about creating a spectacle, about attracting gazes and building confidence.

And Yuuri had so much potential for all that in himself too. Even the anxious twitch of his fingers and how his hips swayed up and down as Yuuri shifted his weight was eye-catching for Viktor. He could easily get obscured in this world, but Viktor knew there was a charm and love in Yuuri that shone through.

Like a star.

He smiled, taking another picture. “Nothing, _zvyozdochka_. Want to go to the café after this?”

“Uh… Yeah, that’s fine. But Viktor?”

“Yes?”

“Give me your keys, _I’m_ driving Alejandro.”

* * *

Viktor didn’t even realize how easy it was to feel relaxed with Yuuri until the Valentine’s Day shoot he was doing for a new line of lipsticks. Yuuri was hiding away from the kissing game that had erupted on set, his cheeks the same shade as a few of the kiss marks on Viktor’s face. It was cute, so utterly _cute_ , and Viktor wanted to pepper him over and over with even more flushed tones when he kissed him.

But Yuuri was just not _fair_ sometimes.

“If you want a kiss from me, you’ve got to work for it.”

Viktor stared at the cocky quirk of Yuuri’s smile, the teasing shimmer in his deep, brown eyes. His heart might’ve stuttered a little, like it tripped down each one of his ribs.

It wasn’t much of a statement, people said similar things in jest all the time, but -- but Viktor wasn’t opposed to this idea in the _least_. He was convinced at that moment that he’d do anything for that kiss, his legs trembling like he’d fall to his knees before Yuuri to prove it.

Little charming mess that was Yuuri Katsuki -- still full of surprises.

Viktor followed the pull he felt between them, trapping Yuuri against the wall. He saw Yuuri’s smile wane, his confidence wavering, but he didn’t run away. Their hands laced together, and Viktor leaned in, aiming for Yuuri’s lips…

At the last moment, he chastised himself, and drew up some restraint to blow a raspberry on Yuuri’s cute little dumpling cheeks instead, earning him a surprised gale of laughter. The sound tickled pleasantly against Viktor’s ear and he smiled, his heart ballooning with delight. With each light-hearted squeal and every tighting of their hold on each other’s hands, Viktor soared.

Slowly but surely, he could feel the gap between him and Yuuri closing. So often was Yuuri closed off and unwilling to share parts of himself, that when he finally did open up, it was the most rewarding and beautiful thing. Viktor found something to adore in the crinkle at the corner of Yuuri’s eyes, the cute scrunch of his nose, the way he laughed Viktor’s name like it was a synonym for joy. Viktor drank it all in with sweetly, wanting more, wanting it for every minute of every day.

Yuuri didn’t scrub off the kiss marks, and he pressed his lips together like he was holding in a secret smile.

Even though the lights were on Viktor during the photoshoot, his eyes only found Yuuri, and he blew him a kiss. Yuuri’s smile was harder to hide then, and he covered his face with his hands.

* * *

When Viktor finished up helping Lilia coach the new models through a photoshoot, he left set to open up his text messages. One was from Chris, wondering when the next time they were going to hang out was, and that he wanted to meet Yuuri already. “ _You can’t keep hogging him, you naughty boy_ ,” were his words, and Viktor texted back a quick, “ _Soon ;)_ ”.

The second one was from Yuuri himself. _Speak of the darling angel_.

 

 **From: ♥✰ little star ✰♥** **  
** _Are we still on tomorrow? Yakov messaged me about the new time_

 

_ >yes, its a date! xoxo _

 

**From: ♥✰ little star ✰♥**

_Haha….yeah…_

_Don’t be fashionably late viktor_

 

_ >omg. was that a modeling pun _

 

**From: ♥✰ little star ✰♥**

_Did you laugh?_

 

_ >YES _

 

**From: ♥✰ little star ✰♥**

_Then yes lol_

 

Viktor grinned, the previous oppressive weight that had been on his shoulders lifting. The name that he’d given Yuuri on his phone had mostly been a joke. It used to simply be his first and last name with a sparkly heart emoji, but ever since he called Yuuri that out loud, the nickname had just… Stuck.

When he pocketed his phone and looked up, Mila and Georgi were sitting there, staring at him.

“Hey, what the hell is wrong with those two?” Yuri came up behind Viktor, fresh out of the dressing room and back in his skinny jeans and black T-shirt that had a roaring tiger head on the front and “ICE TIGER” printed in Russian on the back.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“How about _I_ guess who you were texting just now, Viktor~?” Mila called, a mischievious grin on her face that never boded well for anyone.

As if she’d spoken the magic words, Georgi sighed blissfully, and Yuri, after a moment of deciphering Mila’s tone then staring at Viktor, made a loud sound of digust. Viktor took a step back, holding his hands up to keep the three at bay.

“Wow, what’s this, an intervention?”

Mila arched a brow, still grinning. “I don’t know, do you need one?”

“He definitely fucking needs one,” Yuri snapped. “God, is _this_ the reason you kept looking at your phone during training? Because you’re texting that damn pig?”

Before Yuri could slink away, Viktor captured him in a tight hug, pinning Yuri’s arms to his sides. He lifted him a few inches from the ground, rocking him back and forth. “Oh my _dear_ , _sweet_ Yurio, if you keep having a wonderful disposition like that, I’m sure you’ll keep making lots of friends~”

Yuri kicked as best as he could, rapid-firing Russian curse words as Mila cackled so hard tears started springing in her eyes and she slapped at Georgi’s back. As soon as Viktor put him down, Yuri stalked off with a flustered face, ignoring Yakov’s shouts to corale him back. Viktor decided that was his cue to leave too.

Except like two sly vultures, Mila and Georgi followed him, each on either side of Viktor. Mila grabbed his arm, blue eyes full of mischief.

“So~,” she sang, “could it be that Viktor Nikiforov is finally at love’s mercy~?”

Viktor nearly choked on his laughter. “ _What_?”

“Georgi’s words, not mine.” Mila pointed a perfectly manicured, emerald-painted nail at the man on Viktor’s left.

“I noticed first,” Georgi said proudly. “Of course, it wasn’t like you were _concealing_ the joy on your countenance lately. I admit, I’m torn between being delighted for you, or having pity on you. Then again,” the smile waned from his lips, despair filling his eyes, “I’m still bleeding from love’s piercing arrow, now yanked from my breast--”

“Speak Russian, you drama king!” Mila tsked, the shake of her head bouncing her curls. “Translation: you and _Yuuri Katsuki_ , huh? My, my, Vitya~”

Viktor laughed again, but it was a bit tighter this time. Was it just him, or was it a little hot in here? Mila and Georgi’s eyes widened at the sight of an unmistakable burning blush on Viktor’s cheeks.

“Aha! Hahaha! I KNEW it!” Mila shrieked. “Godammit, I _knew_ it the moment you showed up nude in front of the pure little boy! I said it, right, Georgi?”

“You said exactly, ‘Oh boy, Viktor’s going to get that sweet Japanese booty’,” Georgi supplied, lips pursing at the crude words.

Viktor finally managed to shake them from his side by entering his dressing room, and the two made themselves at home on his couch. The room that had once been saturated with Viktor’s scent how faintly carried another perfume. It was the sweet floral fragrance in Yuuri’s hair and sprinkled along his wrists and collarbone, floating up like a cloud whenever Viktor hugged him. Yuuri was all over his pristine white walls now.

“I think,” he said, “you two are getting ahead of yourselves. As much as I agree that Yuuri’s butt is sweet, I haven’t done anything with him.”

Undeterred, Mila said, “But you’re into him, aren’t you?”

Georgi’s eyes sparkled like a child waiting for a fairytale bedtime story. “Your heart is under his spell, isn’t it?”

“Spells? That’s a bit far, Georgi.” Viktor’s voice was tight though. Uncertain. He tried to busy himself by scrolling aimlessly through Twitter. “I like flirting with him, yeah. He’s really hardworking and sweet, but…”

Mila and Georgi leaned in, waiting.

Viktor couldn’t finish the sentence. A heartbeat, then two, then three passed. He scrolled faster on his phone, obviously not paying attention to whatever was on his feed. He tossed his phone on the chair and ran a hand through his bangs, eyes wide. Viktor was always bad about reading his own feelings, he kind of just went with the flow and let things happen without giving them a name.

His friends continued to wait. Viktor decided he didn’t appreciate their triumphant looks and shooed them out the door with one of the hairsprays, the two of them shrieking down the hallway. That earned another yell from Yakov somewhere.

Viktor closed the door and put down the can of spray. He stared at the shining red tube in contemplation, his lips pressed together as he turned over this new puzzle of who exactly Yuuri Katsuki was to him.

He’d initially flirted with Yuuri because he thought he was cute, but now Viktor’s advances had become less about seeing Yuuri’s blushes (which still sent Viktor’s stomach in somersaults) and more...earnest. He wanted Yuuri to know how much he was looking at him, how much he thought about him, how apparently stupidly _happy_ he looked when he’d just get a text message from him.

He _enjoyed_ having Yuuri by his side. It couldn’t be anyone else. Yuuri wasn’t replacable like that, and neither was he just one of Viktor’s whims. Inside or outside the dressing room, Viktor just wanted to be with Yuuri.

Viktor slowly sank into his chair and pulled out his phone, scrolling back and forth between the selfies and candid photos he’d taken of himself and Yuuri. Viktor couldn’t even take in the scenery for how much his eyes followed the plush pink lips spread in sweet smiles, the large brown puppylike eyes, the curve of his tummy and hips...

Viktor sank lower down his chair until he was practically out of sight in the mirror, making weak groaning sounds. He eventually clattered very ungracefully onto the floor, and even with the stinging pain in his tailbone and the chair collapsed heavily on top of him, Viktor thought it was a good description of the tumble his heart just took when he realized he _really liked_ Yuuri Katsuki.

* * *

Viktor hated that he knew what it looked like when Yuuri’s smiles utterly shattered.

The runway face-off against Intoxicated and LE ROY had been going so well. It had taken some work, but Yuuri’s nerves seemed to settle once it was just him and Viktor in the dressing room, and Viktor encouraged him with all the faith that he had in Yuuri. Viktor vowed that he would do his best on the runway, not only for the sake of Stammi Vicino, but also so that Yuuri could believe that his style and flair belonged under the bright lights and deserved to be gazed upon by thousands.

He knew he probably should’ve cleared up to JJ that Yuuri wasn’t his boyfriend, but how could Viktor ever refuse playing along when Yuuri had reacted so adorably? How could Viktor not want to go out there and show off the love he and Yuuri had? It might not be something as clear-cut as romantic love, but there was a connection there nonetheless, and he knew Yuuri felt it too, otherwise he would’ve protested the proposal more. Viktor could feel it when Yuuri didn his make-up -- he was fired up for the face-off too.

Chris’ knowing smirk and a bump against Viktor’s hip hadn’t helped matters either.

“So, _boyfriend_ ,” Chris said to him backstage, make-up of seductive tones complete and revealing ensemble donned.

“For the day,” Viktor conceded. “Puts the perfect spice to the competition, doesn’t it?”

“Intoxicated is the _definition_ of spice. JJ didn’t think it through by putting love on the table; me and my darling Masumi won’t lose. You and Yuuri might’ve had a chance if you had asked him out by now.” Chris smiled, coming closer to murmur against his ear, “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were with him, Viktor. What are you waiting for?”

Viktor glanced out at Yuuri where he was trying to hide in a corner and out of everyone’s way. The lights that managed to stream in danced over his face and the bits of glitter on his flushed cheeks, matching the awed sparkle of his eyes as he took in the spectacle of the runway. It was no doubt his first time attending such an event -- all the more reason for Viktor to make it memorable for him.

Viktor had eyes for nothing and no one else but him, and he’d make sure Yuuri would be the same once he stepped out on the runway. He broke away from Chris, heading straight for Yuuri -- and that was answer enough for his friend.

“I’m about to go on, Yuuri. I’ll strut down that runway like I own it, and make sure everyone is looking at me when I fight to prove our love is the strongest.”

And walking out there, Viktor thought it had to be true. He knew everyone saw it, how he carried confidence and certainty in his gait, the beauty Yuuri had given him a dazzling glamour on his face. Viktor swore he could feel himself soar over light-filled clouds.

But then -- the results came back, and Viktor could feel himself fall a little like he missed a step on the stairs.

He didn’t bother pestering Chris about the exact numbers, because the point was that Stammi Vicino wasn’t first. Part of him knew that it was _fine_ , that it wasn’t like Stammi Vicino was number one _all_ the time, especially over such a minor show -- but another part of him disagreed, at least in terms of himself. Viktor had the capabilities to make SV first, and if SV slipped in performance, it had to be because the audience could find cause to look away from him, even with Yuuri’s make-up.

Yuuri saw the best beauty in everyone, and even he couldn’t pull Viktor from this slump.

A bitter taste spread on Viktor’s tongue. He was so lost in trying to swallow down his own disappointment with more smiles that he hadn’t given proper care to Yuuri’s own concerns. He hadn’t noticed until too late, when Yuuri was crying in the car, saying that he should quit being Viktor’s make-up artist, that Viktor had made a _mistake_ in choosing him, and--

And Viktor’s heart utterly broke at the sobs saturated in Yuuri’s voice, how the salt of his tears made his lips glimmer just like gloss. He didn’t understand how Yuuri could possibly think the results of the runway face-off his fault, that he could possibly hold blame for dragging Viktor’s name down -- it didn’t make _any_ sense, Yuuri’s work was nothing less than perfect, it was _Viktor_ who was flawed, and--

And he would be anyone Yuuri wanted. He would wear whatever face Yuuri wanted him to if it meant Viktor could keep him by his side, to keep his feet on the ground while the world kept swirling forward too fast for Viktor to keep up with. The only clear image in the blur was _Yuuri_.

Viktor held Yuuri in his arms, warmth filling the cradle of his biceps, and the embrace was just as much to keep Viktor together as Yuuri. Pressing so close like this, all the parts of their chipped hearts remained standing, supporting one another.

 _In the fashion industry, we all have pretty faces and fiery eyes, to distract the glass hearts we wear_.

“I’ll show you,” Viktor promised, breathing in the sweet cherry blossom scent of Yuuri’s hair, his neck becoming perfumed with Yuuri’s tears. “I’ll make you understand.”

He didn’t have any idea how, but Viktor would show Yuuri sights he’d never seen and couldn’t look away from, he’d undress them both, and show that maybe, just maybe, they both held entire galaxies of worth and love under the surface of their skin.

For better or worse, perfect or flawed, Viktor would love every inch of Yuuri, and use that love as his strength.

* * *

Viktor swore he could see those very galaxies dancing on Yuuri’s colorful, sweat-shimmering skin.

He hadn’t expected Yuuri to agree to go clubbing as easily as he did. Viktor had to coax Yuuri so many times to join him on outings, but this time, Yuuri had nodded and followed along with Viktor like he was holding his breath to do it. But it worked out, and soon they were lost under the spray of fog and dizzying kaleidoscope of lights, sweet alcohol burning in their veins.

He hadn’t expected Yuuri to dance with him. Yes, Viktor had _wanted_ and he’d _hoped_ , and Yuuri was just so gorgeous, it was such a waste for him to just stand off on the side, hoping to not be noticed. No, tonight, Viktor wanted the spotlight on _Yuuri_. He wanted Yuuri to know and feel just how much of an extravagant vision he was, full of allure and intrigue.

Viktor hadn’t expected any of it, but Yuuri was brimming with surprises that night, overflowing with them as their shot-glasses had been overflowing with vodka.

When Yuuri joined him on the dance floor, Viktor was weightless. They danced for each other, each sway of their hips and rock of their bodies whispering in the dark, _Don’t look at anyone else but me_. And Viktor was certain as soon as Yuuri was under his hands that he’d never look at anyone else again. Yuuri was smiling, laughter loud, bringing Viktor fully in his arms, starting a drunken step sequence to a waltz. He dipped Viktor down, turning Viktor’s world on its head, and Viktor couldn’t stop singing.

When Yuuri pulled him back up, Viktor almost stumbled, and he clung to Yuuri with a hiccuping laugh. Looking up, he made out the deep, colorful well of Yuuri’s eyes, intoxicating like the glass of Jack-and-coke they downed together before sweeping to the dance floor. The flush of his cheeks glowed in the dark club, twin roses framing his sticky, starlight smile.

 _He’s beautiful_ , Viktor thought. _So beautiful_.

And then, Yuuri led them to the back wall of the club, away from the lights, and pressed Viktor’s spine against the black brick. Without pause for breath, his soft lips shoved messily against Viktor’s shoulders and cheeks. To Viktor’s surprise, the messy kisses weren’t gestures of seduction, especially as loud raspberries tickled Viktor’s flushed, glittering skin.

“Pffft, haha, m’sweet Yuuri-- Haha, oh! What--what’re you doin’?” he slurred.

Yuuri blew another raspberry against Viktor’s sternum, unbuttoning more and more of Viktor’s shirt, revealing his skin. “’M’payin’ you back. All those kisses Viktor put on my cheeks on Valentine’s...”

“It was _two_ , darling.”

“So what? I bet-- I bet I can give Viktor a _million_ kisses!”

All of Viktor’s breath escaped his lungs. If Yuuri was giving him kisses he’d abstained from before, did that mean Viktor finally deserved them? Did Yuuri -- did he _like_ Viktor then? Maybe Viktor had succeeded in capturing Yuuri’s heart, or put a spell on it, whatever the hell Georgi said.

 _I have to tell him_ , he thought, the desire a palpable sweet taste on his tongue. _I have to tell him. He’s so cute. So beautiful. I have to tell him. Tell him I want to dance forever. Kiss forever. Don’t stop, have to tell him_ \--

Sadly, Chris and Masumi dragged them both out of the club before Yuuri could even make a dent in those million kisses. The two of them continued to laugh and dance on the sidewalk until the cab came to pick them up. Viktor continued to sing during the ride, head still doing dizzying ballroom waltzes, his heart full as Yuuri laid on his lap.

Viktor thought that would be the end of the surprises for the night. But then Yuuri came home with him. Yuuri was in his _apartment_ , playing happily with his _dog_ that so clearly adored Yuuri too (and if that wasn’t proof how perfect Yuuri was, what then?) _._

Yuuri laid sprawled on his bed, sheets tangled around him like a dream so that only the creamyness of his soft legs peeked out.

Yuuri was in his closet, looking in wonder and awe at the racks upon racks of Viktor’s expensive, stylish outfits, some indulgences, some gifts, but all of them Viktor had at least tried on to appraise his reflection. Viktor loved his clothes, loved that he had the freedom to wear what he wanted, that he was surrounded by people who thought he was beautiful in those clothes. He wondered to himself if Yuuri would like him even without the couture and shining accessories, without this closet filled to the brim with every color and fabric the world had to offer.

And then, Yuuri was doing a one-man runway show for him. It was different from the ones in mall dressing rooms. This time, Yuuri ran the show with the confidence and gait of a top model.

Yuuri went into Viktor’s bathroom and somehow managed to have a sober enough hand to put on some make-up, the most glamorous and seductive shades Viktor had seen on him yet. At the end of his transformation, Yuuri had pulled on one of Viktor’s favorite dresses. It didn’t even matter that his heels were about a size too big for Yuuri’s feet, or that the dress a size too small.

Seeing Yuuri emerge out was an event both sobering and intoxicating, and Viktor could do nothing but stare in awe, drinking in every inch of Yuuri’s skin, every fall of the fabric over his full figure, every shimmer on his lips when he smiled with a seduction Viktor didn’t know Yuuri possessed. How cruel, he’d been holding out on Viktor, to think such a fiery blossom had been smoldering inside him, waiting for its chance to come out.

 _Ahh, I knew it. Yuuri could definitely be a model. If it were him, I’d want to adorn his body every which way, and design all manner of ensembles for him_. Viktor wasn’t a designer, but looking at Yuuri, he could see the colors and fabrics appear in his mind, exquisitely wrapping around Yuuri’s body. Shit, did he have paper anywhere? Was his head still buzzing too much to draw a decent design.

When Yuuri lifted a heel up on the bed, hand cocked on his hip, Viktor’s obsessive thoughts halted. Momentarily.

“So,” Yuuri asked, voice a rich velvet, “which career do you think suits me better in the end? Stripper, or model?”

Viktor nearly _snapped_ to pull Yuuri under him on the mattress. The heels’ straps caressed his ankle so delicately, and Viktor wanted to shower kisses over them and up Yuuri’s legs, to hike the skirt up higher then make Yuuri’s flesh shimmer with diamond sweat. They could do it. Under the sweet veil of night and lingering drops of alcohol and soft, expensive clothes, they could steal some hours of passion. Viktor would be willing.

Somehow, he held back, even when Yuuri _did_ tumble onto the mattress. His seductive edge softened, but Viktor still couldn’t pry his eyes away from him. From inside and outside, Yuuri was sparkling bright, precious and dazzling.

“By the way… I really want to know -- what is it you keep calling me?”

Viktor smiled. “ _Zvyozdochka_ . It means ‘little star’. I call you that because that’s what you remind me of; a shining light even when shyly hiding in the darkness. Yuuri Katsuki, my beautiful _zvyozdochka_.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened with this new knowledge, the warm, dark pools filling with the twinkling night sky. When they laid this close, Viktor could make out every breath rising under Yuuri’s chest, the skip of his pulse that ran up Yuuri’s neck and caressed under his jawline. Viktor’s fingertips itched to trace it, to hold Yuuri’s soft face under his palm.

 _Tell him. Tell him now_.

“I don’t understand why you think I am. You’re the beautiful one.”

Just like that, the complicated, heavy feelings that Viktor had managed to forget about this entire night came creeping back. He remembered the time limit his career had, the little time he had left to figure out what he needed to do with his life now. He still felt like he was groping blindly in the darkness to find something, a purpose, a new lead to who he was now. He wasn’t going to be Viktor Nikiforov the top model for much longer.

Beyond the photoshoots and glamorous clothes and make-up, who was he supposed to be?

But Yuuri wasn’t looking at him like he was just a top model. Over the few months that they’d been together, the blind starstuck glaze in Yuuri’s eyes had left. He stared at Viktor like he really wanted to _see him_ , like he understood that more of Viktor lied beneath the surface. He was searching for Viktor’s fire too, any hint of a spark that still ignited inside him.

If the heat in Viktor’s chest indicated anything, then perhaps Yuuri was seeing that fire now.

When Yuuri curled up against him and softly wished him a good night, Viktor thought the only way this could be more perfect was if he could hold Yuuri. He licked his lips, shifting to face him.

“Yuuri?”

“Mmn,” was the quiet response, too far away to possibly be lucid.

Viktor released a fond breath, pressing his forehead to Yuuri’s. A sleepy smile played on his lips.

“I love you.”

Yuuri twitched at Viktor’s touch, and he shifted closer, snuggling right into Viktor’s arms where he fit perfectly into the empty spaces.

* * *

The days were passing like a dream. Ever since Viktor woke up to the perfect vision that was Yuuri Katsuki stepping out of his bathroom with bedhead and a dirty shirt, utterly pants-less, Viktor had been on cloud nine. He hadn’t felt this giddy and light-headed and _wonderful_ in years. He kept smiling at random times of the day, and sometimes bursted out in delighted laughter in the middle of the shoot just seeing Yuuri waiting for him on the other side of the camera.

“Oh man,” Mila said, in Russian so Yuuri wouldn’t understand, “he’s got it bad.”

“Poor man,” Georgi said, the words at odds with his blissful expression.

“Fucking _idiot_ ,” Yuri said, in perfect, loud English.

“What did they say?” Yuuri asked when it was just the two of them in the dressing room. He waited for Viktor to take his selfie before bringing out the make-up wipes. “They kept looking at me with these...smiles… I mean, except Yurio. But I’m sure it’s a given that he’s always scowling.”

Viktor hummed, pretending to be oblivious. And it was true, how could anything else matter when he had Yuuri? He shrugged. “Who knows?” He waited until Yuuri was done cleaning his face before asking, “Want to go out after this?”

“Where?” Yuuri raised his eyebrows, but smiled like he was already ready to agree.

Again, Viktor shrugged. “Anywhere? Everywhere? The moon and back?”

That earned him a laugh, and Yuuri reached out to prod his forehead. “I think the camera flashes finally fried your brain.”

“But you’re not saying no.”

“True,” the corners of Yuuri’s eyes crinkled in mirth, “I’m not saying no.”

Viktor’s heart spun. He had no idea why it was taking him so long to _tell Yuuri._ He knew Yuuri hadn’t actually heard him that night, otherwise Viktor wouldn’t keep his hands and lips off of him.

Viktor didn’t understand. He’d had no problems asking other people to go out with him before. He didn’t even have problems saying that he liked someone. But the difference between confessing to his past lovers and confessing to Yuuri was comparable to describing the weather versus describing a grand symphony. There was simply too much Viktor wanted to give and convey to Yuuri, and he wasn’t sure his words would even do it justice. He might say something wrong and accidentally end up making Yuuri take a step back from him -- and Viktor couldn’t let that happen. Not after all the progress of the past few months.

 _Soon_ , he promised. _I’ll tell him soon_.

But even with Viktor’s careful planning, he ended up making an utter mess of things anyway.

It was the interview. That damn fucking interview. Viktor hadn’t been particularly picky about the people that had been reaching out to him for jobs and exposure lately. Anything worked, within reason. Viktor had heard of this talkshow host before, of his sharp tongue and how he was always searching for juicy stories. But Viktor had encountered worse, and had yet to meet an interviewer he couldn’t handle; he’d always met every attempt at a scandel with careful sidesteps and a perfectly-tailored smile.

Viktor, Yakov, and Viktor’s publicist listened to the questions that would be asked, screening them one by one, weeding out most of them.

When they reviewed what was left, Yakov looked at him and asked in Russian, “You sure you can handle these, Vitya?”

Questions about Viktor’s role in Stammi Vicino, about the future of the brand, about what it was like training the new, younger models… They were questions Viktor couldn’t avoid forever. Maybe if he confronted them right now, he could finally get these stupid anxieties out. Maybe he could finally move forward and not be afraid of a future where he wasn’t modeling.

 _As long as Yuuri will still want me, as long as he can still find something beautiful in me even when I’m not posing for a camera, then I’ll be fine_.

“I’ll be fine. You worry too much, Yakov, that’s why you’re losing your hair~”

Then the show started, and Viktor was in front of the cameras and an audience, and he knew that no matter what, he had to keep calm.

 _Just get it over with. You’ll feel better once it’s over. Just do it_.

The questions came as expected, and Viktor pushed through them as cleanly as he could. Except… His heart was beating a little too fast. He definitely wasn’t imagining the mocking lilt laced in the host’s questions, was he? Maybe they sounded more tame before since Yakov was there, but now…

 _I don’t like his tone. What is this? This piece of shit, he’s switching the wording around_ . Viktor sent him barely-veiled glares and even sweeter smiles to get him to take a step back, but the host was undeterred. He brought up online gossip, which Viktor had been prepared for, but the words were supposed to be euphenized, and _yet_.

Viktor got the full assault -- “ _replaced_ ,” “ _not a surprise_ ,” “ _over fifteen years_ ”. The truth of Viktor’s fears tossed right at his face with nothing to soften the blow.

_Who even are you if not a top model? Do you have anything after this? Won’t you just be nothing once you’re replaced?_

No. No, he wouldn’t be “nothing”. He was _someone_. He was somebody, a human being, a person worth loving beyond the glamour, to at least one person in this world.

Viktor touched his lips, remembering how Yuuri applied his lipstick and gushed how he loved using this shade on Viktor. The fire in his eyes hadn’t stopped sparking lately, glittering like amber fireworks in Yuuri’s eyes, especially when he met Viktor’s gaze.

“ _Good luck, Viktor. I’ll wait for you_.”

Viktor took a calming breath. Yuuri, Yuuri, _Yuuri---_

Viktor very nearly growled when the host latched onto Yuuri’s name, bringing up pointless gossip in tangent to the questions they’d gone over. Yuuri was never in the deal. Viktor grit his teeth. Attack him, sure, Viktor was more-or-less used to it. But Yuuri? He was new to this industry, he didn’t know what it was like to be gossiped about, to have shameless eyes scrutinizing him, waiting for one mistake to tear him apart.

Yuuri didn’t deserve it, Viktor had to _protect_ him. No one knew who Yuuri was beyond his association with Viktor, and no one else had seen the fire he brought to the dressing room, to Viktor’s every day life, igniting his heart.

If this interview was already going haywire, then Viktor was going to make his own rules too. He called out for Yuuri, but when the cameras got to him, he was shocked to see Yuuri’s wide-eyed, tear-stained face staring back at him on screen. It was only for a few seconds before the feed cut off, but it was enough to send a black hole of guilt and fear in the pit of his stomach, his own lungs bottoming out.

 _Shit_ . What had he just _done_?

* * *

“You’re an _idiot_ , Vitya! Do you have _any_ idea how many calls I’m getting right now!?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“I asked you if you could handle this. So what _was_ that!?”

“It just… Things got out of control, I’m sorry. Look, I have to look for Yuuri, no one’s seen him and he’s not answering his phone.” Viktor paced back and forth in one of the backrooms, running frantic hands through his hair. He couldn’t have a care how harried it made him look, how could care about appearances when Yuuri was _missing_?

It was all his fault. He would never be forgiven for this public display of shame.

Possibly feeling pity for the source of Viktor’s panic, Yakov took a deep breath, the frustrated red gradually fading from his cheeks. “I know. Seung Gil is looking. I’d send your publicist too, but she’s having a very long talk with that host. We’ll be on damage control for a while. Hopefully the upcoming summer collection will be enough to divert negative attention on you and Yuuri.”

Viktor looked up, shoulders slumping. There was a possibility that all this could go the opposite way and the summer show suffer because of this. Because Viktor had gotten too emotional. God, he _deserved_ to be replaced. He clutched at his hair and sank into the leather seat of the couch.

“Yakov, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Humph. I know you are. But I’ve cleaned up your messes before. It’s what I’m here for.” He gave Viktor a small, almost fond, smile. “You still haven’t changed from that headstrong teenager that insisted on going on your own crusades. That kind of passion…is why you caught my eye in the first place, Vitya.” Yakov joined him on the couch and patted Viktor’s leg. “I know you had good intentions, Vitya. But you need to make this right. Not by Stammi Vicino, but by that boy. I told you before, the industry swallows those like him alive. You make this _right_ , you hear me?”

Viktor nodded. That much he understood.

* * *

Seung Gil eventually found Yuuri, and Viktor’s legs nearly gave out at the sight of him. He looked worse than Viktor, his eyes red and swollen, his make-up ruined, walking like his whole body was a burden on him.

_This is your fault._

Viktor immediately took Yuuri into his arms, chest clenched.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

It was the most quiet car ride they ever had. Viktor drove aimlessly, so lost in thought that it wasn’t until the fourth car that passed him with an angry honk that he realized how below the speed limit he was. He thought about cracking a joke about how Yuuri had him driving like an old lady now, but one look at Yuuri’s exhausted face told him that a casual icebreaker wasn’t the way to go about this. Viktor retreated.

He had no idea how to even _begin_ apologizing. He knew how easy it was to put Yuuri’s nerves on edge, yet Viktor had just publicly humilated him. On accident, sure, but that wasn’t enough to excuse it. Even if Viktor’s team did manage to minimalize the damage, there was no erasing Yuuri’s trauma. There was no erasing that Viktor had forced him in the spotlight at the worst possible time.

He’d wanted the world to notice Yuuri too, but not like this. Never like this.

Viktor tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, thinking. Finally, he shook his head, letting out a sigh. It didn’t matter how he started, he just had to end this silence. It was so unnatural after all the laughter and banter they’d shared.

“Yuuri, I’m -- I’m so _sorry_ this happened, love. I’m so, _so_ sorry that I did that to you. If I had known, I never would’ve drawn attention to you.”

Yuuri was quiet.

“But, _zvyozdochka--_ ”

“Don’t call me that.” Even with the fragile whisper of his voice, the words pierced heavily in the air, weighing down on Viktor’s shoulders.

Viktor wet his lips, eyes flickering around for some solution to this. He just wanted things to go back to how they were this morning. But there was no easy way to do that, and it frustrated Viktor. He had no idea how to deal with situations like these, so used to sweeping others’ feelings under the rug, letting time and silence do the healing.

Yuuri deserved better than that.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong? Tell me why you were crying back then.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel in realization. “Did they say something to you too?” Oh, he would have that talkshow’s _head_ . Viktor had managed to be clean of drama during his career despite his personality and profession, but he was _not_ above urging Yakov to sue if those people had so much _looked_ at Yuuri funny--

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuuri said, drained of any care.

“Of course it matters! Who hurt you?” Viktor winced at the resounding _You_ in his head. _You were the one that hurt him_. The simple fact of it was obvious just remembering how sure Viktor had been when he called Yuuri’s name, how the screens showed clear shots of Yuuri’s crying face. Viktor’s heart bled.

The silence settled between them again. In his frustration, Viktor had finally sped up a little. He wondered if he could convince Yuuri to come back home with him. Maybe he could make some coffee, he could offer Yuuri to use his shower, wear his more comfortable clothes. They could sit on the sofa and Yuuri could pet Makkachin, who would be all too eager to soothe Yuuri’s worries with his wet kisses and soft fur.

As he was about to approach the turn to his street, Yuuri said his name. Viktor answered, ready in all ways to help, to love, to hold.

In one statement, Yuuri refused all of it.

“Let’s end this. This -- thing between us. You being my model and all. I don’t…” Yuuri screwed his eyes shut like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

_I don’t want to be with you anymore._

Viktor turned into the nearest parking lot, uncaring of the other driver he narrowly cut off, uncaring to park within the goddamn lines. What was the _point_ if all the lines were being crossed today?

He turned to Yuuri, but his gaze refused to be met. Yuuri wasn’t meeting him halfway. Right before his eyes, Viktor could see him retreating far away, further than Viktor could reach.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked, quietly, worried just his voice would break Yuuri past his limits. Hell, it felt enough to break _Viktor_ . “I told you I was sorry. I made a mistake, but please don’t leave. Let’s try and work this out together, _zvyoz--_ ” Viktor pressed his lips together. “Yuuri.”

Yuuri shook his head, every muscle tense and screaming how he did not want to be here. It was like that time after the runway show, and Yuuri half looked like he would jump out of the moving sedan just to escape. The tension built, a rapidly tightening thread that threatened to snap until Yuuri _did_ , turning to Viktor with wide, imploring eyes.

“Viktor, why did you _bring_ me here? Why am I here with you?”

_Why are you keeping me close?_

That… It was obvious to Viktor. He loved Yuuri. Yuuri with the shy smile, Yuuri with the loud laughter, Yuuri with the fire, Yuuri with the soft body, Yuuri with the little anxious fidgets and love for sweets and cheesy romantic music and cosmic love. Yuuri that gradually gave Viktor something strong and solid within himself to stand on without risk of falling. Yuuri that had so unknowingly given him life and love and was worth the whole world in gold.

How could he tell Yuuri that? It wouldn’t fix things to tell Yuuri now, would it?

Would it?

He reached out for Yuuri. Yuuri recoiled, and Viktor’s heart splintered. A half-baked confession used as a band-aid for Viktor’s mistake and Yuuri’s anxiety wouldn’t fix this. Not when Viktor felt this close to the edge, not with this yelling, not when Yuuri was breaking, crying, thinking that all this time, he was here just to keep Viktor on the runway, just another meaningless accessory for Viktor to wear.

And then it hit Viktor. Yuuri honestly believed he was being used. That Viktor saw nothing in him. That he was here for Viktor’s shallow desires.

_Is that what you think of me?_

Ha… It looked like Yuri was right. Viktor was a spotlight hog. But Viktor didn’t want to be under the camera flashes. He wanted the spotlight of Yuuri’s heart, his _love_. But Yuuri didn’t know it, Viktor never said it, and now Yuuri was leaving.

 _Yuuri was leaving_.

By the time Viktor tried to do something about it, tried to pull Yuuri back to him, tried to salvage _them_ , Yuuri was already tumbling out of the car. Viktor watched as he retreated, and Viktor got as far as putting shaky hands on the wheel and starting up the car, planning to go after Yuuri -- before the fight left him.

Yuuri -- left.

Yuuri _rejected_ him, and honestly, Viktor deserved it.

How could he have done this to Yuuri? If Yuuri had ever seen anything beautiful in him, he certainly wouldn’t now. Maybe this ugliness was what Viktor was at his core. After all, he tried to protect Yuuri and it had backfired at such a terrible magnitude. What would he have been capable of if he _had_ been able to confess to Yuuri?

Viktor’s hands slipped from the steering wheel and he slumped back against his seat. With each second, it became harder to breathe. The world was becoming a blur again, and there was nothing to keep Viktor from being swept away.

He didn’t realize until his lungs squeezed out a pathetic little sob that he was crying, and the reason the world was blurring was because his sight was saturated with tears. He caught his reflection in the mirror, his eyes glassy and tears streaking down his cheeks. The sight surprised him more than anything. When was the last time he had cried?

_Don’t cry, you have to smile for the cameras._

_Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your make-up._

_Don’t cry, you have an image to keep._

An image? Who _cared_ about that?

Viktor pressed his lips together, the seam of them trembling form the force of more sobs. The first signs of distress finally twisted his features. His brow furrowed, and the sticky tears overflowed, lining the red of his cheeks.

He was such an ugly crier.

* * *

Viktor didn’t leave the parking lot for at least four hours.

When night rolled above him, Viktor pulled down his car’s retractable roof, and stared up at the sky. The radio played softly to fill the silence and drown out the endless buzz inside Viktor’s head.

If he still smoked like he had in his early twenties, perhaps he’d blow the plumes of foggy white above him, blending with the clouds and the soft croon of the singer floating from his speakers. He’d pretend his thoughts and heavy feelings would ascend and dissipate with the smoke. But he’d quit once he got sick of the aftertaste always clinging to his teeth and tongue, worried his nails would grow yellow with nicotine.

The heavy, slow sway of the song put the brakes on the dizzying vertigo Viktor had been feeling ever since Yuuri left the car. The lyrics thrummed inside him like a lullaby, the dreamy flow of the singer’s voice singing out loud his anxieties and faults. The bass beat in time with his heart, and Viktor traced the peek of stars with his eyes.

_I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I was being unfair to you this whole time. I put so much pressure on you. I shoved my desires onto you and just wished you would be complacent with it. Selfish doesn’t even begin to cover it._

Traffic rushed in the background. Voices too, belonging to a couple of teenagers leaving the nearby Starbucks. The fluffy lavender clouds were suddenly the swirl of whipped cream in Yuuri’s favorite coffee, the sweet stuff always sticking to his lips, making Viktor want to wipe it off with a slow kiss.

 _Maybe it wasn't to keep me on the runway or to save my career, but at first, I_ was _initially hoping you could salvage some part of me. It’s not a good enough reason, but…for the first time, Yuuri, with you, I feel something finally having the chance to build inside me, without the threat of having to be torn down and re-invented for the magazines, for the press, for the audience. I found a reason to be even more selfish_ and _selfless in you._

 _What do I do? What words should I tell you to fix this? What is it that you want to hear from me most?_ A self-deprecated laugh startled from his lips when he realized that Yuuri might not want to hear anything from Viktor ever again.

 _At the very least… I want you to know that even though I had these hopes, what I came to deeply wish for the most was that you always remain by my side. Not so you can save my career, but because I_ love _you. Yuuri Katsuki, I love you with every bit of my body. The man you helped build inside me is immeasurably and irrevocably in love with you, the little light in this engulfing space._

_My little star._

And maybe if he had told Yuuri all this weeks ago, they wouldn't be in this mess now. Viktor sighed. He had to fix this. He had no idea how, but he knew he had to fix this. No matter how scared he was of what could happen, Yuuri didn’t deserve to be alone in this. Viktor had to tell him how everything really was, and most of all, how sorry he was.

He took out his phone, looking at his Makkachin lockscreen change to the homescreen of himself and Yuuri ballroom dancing at Sway. It had been his favorite photo of the night, but now Viktor wondered if they’d ever dance like that again.

He opened up Yuuri’s contact, a little window with a shyly smiling Yuuri from their very first selfie staring back at Viktor.

Viktor took a breath, and stared at that smile, his thumb hesitating over the call button. _Do it. Tell him. Tell him you’re sorry. That you’ll give him anything he needs. That you’ll listen to him. You can’t fuck up more than this_.

Viktor’s thumb tapped down.

Yuuri’s voicemail immediately greeted him, and Viktor slapped a hand over his face, scrubbing over it. Of course Yuuri wouldn’t answer. He’d probably turned his phone off to avoid the spam of calls he was surely getting. Either that, or Yuuri had ignored his call as soon as it popped up.

He deserved that.

“Dammit,” he whispered. It was only then that he realized that the voicemail had ended, and he was leaving a message now.

Even if he did leave something, there was no guarantee that Yuuri would listen, especially once he heard Viktor’s voice. He might delete the message on the spot.

Viktor stared up at the sky like what he should do might be written there. All there was though was the faint twinkling of stars, hiding behind the clouds that rolled by.

Viktor took a deep breath.

“Hey, _zvyozdochka…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I thought I could cram 7 chapters worth of Viktor POV in a reasonable amount of words. 13k. That's literally the most I've written for a single update in anything ever, wow. The song playing on the radio at the end comes from this fic's namesake, "afterglow" by garbage.
> 
> During the long break, @sarumitrash on Twitter drew [this lovely Vitya](http://twitter.com/sarumitrash/status/858692465271943169) in the make-up Yuuri put on him in chapter three! Take a look!
> 
> If you ever want updates on my writing, follow me on Twitter, @RenOnIceCream! Sometimes I even post small previews of upcoming fics and updates to tide over during the spaces in between me posting things.


	9. i'm gonna love you inside out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, everyone! Thank you for joining me once more even though updates are so spaced out :') Hopefully once I get the last chapter of my otayuri up, I'll have more time to dedicate to this series. This update felt so short in comparison to the 13k monster last time but I hope that y'all will still enjoy this :')
> 
> Many many many MANY thanks to the rad kk (trashakemi on ao3!) for being my beta this chapter. Your onions and edits defs made this chapter HELLA better. Look at it. It's so shiny now, ILYSM <333
> 
> Chapter title is from "Inside Out" by the Chainsmokers and its so model au I screamed in the club

****Yuuri’s voicemail box was full.

Fifteen messages, to be exact, stared him in the face when he turned his phone back on, though it was impossible to say who they were from. Minako, Phichit, and Minami’s numbers were familiar on his missed calls list and likely candidates. There were also quite a few missed calls from Viktor, but most of them were dated from before their fight in the car.

Only one was dated after it, at 8:56pm.

For the past three days, he had kept contact with his phone to a minimum. After calling Minako and Minami to briefly assure them that he was fine, the only contact he had opened up was Yakov’s to tell him over a call that he wouldn’t be able to come into work for the next few days. It would be an inconvenience, he knew, especially with all the summer shows coming up, but Yuuri wasn’t sure if he could face anyone in Stammi Vicino yet.

_This is running away. You’re causing these problems just to run away from your own shortcomings. If you really wanted to look stronger, if you really didn’t want anyone to know how weak you are, you’d show up with your head held high and a smile. You’d go on with your life and look Viktor in the eye again, and you wouldn’t be scared he wouldn’t see a spark in you._

Well, he could imagine all he wanted, but nothing could be more final and clear than, “ _Let’s end this_ ”. He wouldn’t be shocked at all if he actually _had_ just ended his job.

To his surprise, Yakov had both assured him his job was intact and agreed to Yuuri’s request. “ _I figured you’d need time off,”_ he’d said with understanding. “ _It would be your first time dealing with the media, hmm? Don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of things. Come back when you’re ready. Vitya will have to understand too._ ”

Yuuri swallowed the rock in his throat. “I’m sorry again for all the trouble I caused.”

Yakov huffed. “ _Don’t talk nonsense. This isn’t your fault. No matter who tries to say otherwise, you commit_ my _words to memory that you hold no blame for this_.”

Was Yakov protecting him? After all the effort he went through to try denying Yuuri the job as Viktor’s make-up artist in the first place? How -- unexpected. Maybe somehow,  Yuuri managed to prove himself as a worthy member of Stammi Vicino. He just hoped this whole incident hadn’t reduced that accomplishment to dust.

“...Thank you,” he finally said, because he _was_ grateful, from the bottom of his heart.

And that had been the end of it. He’d avoided social media like the plague, too scared to know what total strangers were saying about him. He hadn’t gotten any strange calls or e-mails yet, but he supposed he had Yakov again to thank for that.

That one missed call from Viktor kept popping up in Yuuri’s mind though. Just one call. Fifteen voicemails. The odds weren’t in favor of the hopeful flutter in his chest, and the anxious butterflies that kept him up at night and tickled the back of his neck where Viktor’s warm breath as he said Yuuri’s name used to be.

* * *

That evening, Phichit was going to be taking pictures at a show that his friend’s band would be doing in downtown. Of course, he thought this the _perfect_ opportunity for Yuuri to finally go out and get some fresh night air. He’d been quite determined to give Yuuri any and all support these past days, whether it was in the form of him attentively listening to Yuuri when he decided to open up, or aggressively distracting him when he could see Yuuri was staring off into space a little too deeply.

Too bad it was taking him forever and a _decade_ to get ready, outdoing even Yuuri’s sluggish, depressed pace.

“Phichit, you ready _yet_?” Yuuri called beyond the empty living room.

“Patience, young Padawan!” was the response from Phichit’s room, likely in front of his mirror. “It takes time and effort to look as good as I do!”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and flopped onto the sofa. “Didn’t _I_ teach you all you know, O fashionable Jedi?” he muttered.

Phichit’s laptop rested right in front of him on the coffee table, and Yuuri moved to put it aside and watch television -- then the screen caught his attention. Phichit had been apparently going through several hashtags and keywords on Twitter, and to Yuuri’s horror, he could see low-res photos of himself crying on live television, and clips that automatically re-played the interview.

 _Don’t. You’ll definitely regret it_.

In the end, Yuuri’s curiosity won out, and he leaned towards the screen. In the line of tweets, the keywords Phichit had searched up were bolded.

 

 **Jan-Jan** _@FashionistaSlay_ 1h

fuckin yikes @ that **viktor nikiforov interview** tho, did he srsly toss his artist under the bus?

 

 **Helena’s Heels** _@HelenasHeels_ 2h

remember the “leave brittany alone” guy? this is him now crying over **viktor nikiforov** mid- **interview**. feel old yet?

 

 **sonya the sassy** _@purepinkchiffon_ 4h

I feel so bad for this poor kid in that **Viktor Nikiforov interview**!! Does anyone know why he was crying??

 

> **Ami** _@ohyesthestylish_ 30m
> 
> is2g its some publicity stunt, i bet viktor did it to distract from the host’s questions
> 
>  

**#eternally17** _@vogueguuurl_ 4h

this boy is seriously a downgrade from lilia and opposite on every level, why was he such a mess???

 

> **Russian sunflower** _@VityaInADress_ 14m
> 
> GURL DAS THE BOY FROM VITYA’S IG im in tatters over this **viktor nikiforov interview** whats happening //cRIES
> 
> **#eternally17** _@vogueguuurl_ 6m
> 
> r u serious WELL THEN TF how could he do that boy so dirty????

 

“ _Yuuri_!”

The laptop slammed closed before Yuuri’s eyes, but the letters still danced in his vision. Phichit moved the laptop away then joined Yuuri on the couch, freshly smelling of cologne. “Dude, I’m so sorry, you weren’t supposed to see any of that. I was just doing some recon, and...”

“No, no, it’s fine, I get it,” Yuuri managed. He patted his friend’s shoulder, not blaming him for being curious. After all, Yuuri had been the same just now.

Phichit bit the inside of his cheek. “Did you see anything?”

“Oh. Yeah, I saw.” Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. He knew Phichit was asking if he saw any of the tweets that were saying hurtful things about him. And while there were a few that had no problems expressing that Yuuri had no place in the fashion industry, what had stood out to him a lot more was…

His throat ran dry. “I saw talk about Viktor.”

Yuuri hadn’t realized it until now that to outsiders, the whole interview looked like such a trainwreck that they could only speculate the reasons behind why things went so wrong. If you really twisted the situation, it put Viktor in a bad position, since he was the one who put attention on Yuuri after that intense barrage of questions.

It was poorly-timed for sure, but Yuuri knew at the very least that Viktor hadn’t done it on purpose. Viktor wasn’t the type to turn on someone, especially someone close to him. Not like it mattered to other people who could only draw ignorant conclusions from seeing the incomplete picture. Could Yuuri fix this? Replying to each and every tweet was impractical though, no matter how he burned to tell them they were wrong about Viktor.

It was just like watching the interview all over again, where Yuuri couldn’t do anything to help the situation. His interference would only make it worse.

Phichit glanced at Yuuri’s phone where it’d been resting on the coffee table since breakfast. “Has he said anything to you?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Not that I blame him for not wanting to. The interview was already going so bad and I made it so much worse for him.”

“Yuuri, you _didn’t_.”

Yuuri sighed, hearing his friend but unable to let the words sink in as truth. The only solid thing to him was the well of guilt sinking in his chest. “All my insecurities reflected back on him on freakin’ television. I didn’t mean to do this to him, it was literally the _last_ thing I wanted, Phichit! It’s what I was scared would happen if I was by his side. It makes the fact that I love him ten thousand times more laughable.” He managed a tight laugh just saying it.

“It certainly does _not_ ! Hey,” Phichit gently gripped his shoulders, having Yuuri face him, “you hear me, Yuuri Katsuki? You and Viktor are going to be okay, I just _know_ it. Give it another day or two. Everyone will be gossiping about whatever shit the next celebrity is doing. As far as dramas go, this will blow over quickly.” Phichit knocked their shoulders together, as if to physically pass off his reassurances.

It worked a little, and Yuuri softly knocked him back. Phichit grinned, patting Yuuri’s thigh. “Come on, let’s head out. You, sir, need an outing among friends.”

* * *

By the time they reached the venue, Yuuri was already fiddling with his phone in his pocket. He never got around to checking his voicemails, but Yuuri was still thinking about cleaning up his inbox to an almost obsessive degree.

Yuuri didn’t know for _sure_ if Viktor left a message. It was possible he’d dialed Yuuri completely on accident. After all, there wasn’t a text or another call to follow up with. Viktor might be trying to avoid Yuuri as much as Yuuri was trying to avoid him.

It didn’t _sound_ like Viktor though. Simply ignoring Yuuri went against everything he knew about Viktor from the past few months -- he’d embrace Yuuri so tightly from behind, calling his name happily all the way across set, always bridging the distance between them. Viktor was always reaching out, even as Yuuri pulled away countless times.

Remembering just how loving and giving Viktor was only made the memories of tearing away from him hurt all the more. Out of thin air it seemed, Viktor had encouraged him, seen potential in his artistry, and had become his model and friend. Yet Yuuri had run away from all of it, the embraces and silly heart-shaped smiles and all the tiny gestures of love because he was so convinced that Viktor would be better off without him.

But something had been missing in their relationship, a reassurance Yuuri had so desperately needed above all others, but Viktor had never said it. That was why he couldn’t stop thinking about the overflowing voicemails he had. He couldn’t stop thinking at least _one_ might have Viktor’s voice in it, telling him something important. Maybe that was conceited. Yuuri didn’t care. Despite being the one to end things, Yuuri still held onto his selfish wish for Viktor to only look at him.

 _Geez, I’m...so horrible. I never act on what I want because I think I don’t deserve it. It makes everything I do so...half-assed_.

...Was it wrong then? To think that he hadn’t been imagining the connection he and Viktor had?

“Hey, we’re gonna have a good time tonight.” Phichit’s smile and upbeat words snapped Yuuri from his daze, momentarily alleviating the weight of his phone’s messages. He waited until Yuuri returned the smile and then dragged him further into the venue.

It was a pretty small, open-air area between a classy absinthe bar and a jazz club. This part of downtown was known for being a more chill hangout than a place to wildly party, which meant Yuuri was more comfortable in agreeing to tag along. A little ways down the block though and across the street was Sway, the sign lit up and bass of the music faintly reaching Yuuri’s heart, echoing the beat he’d danced to in the club with Viktor in his arms.

He pointedly looked away from the club and walked further into the fairylights and twirling disco ball hanging overhead like a glittering moon.

Mari was already occupying one of the seats at a table, and Yuuri wove through to take a seat beside her.

“Katsukis! Smile!” Phichit, ever ready to take photos, whipped out his phone and waited until Mari and Yuuri had gotten close enough to snap a picture. Phichit snickered. “Thanks for the bunny ears, Mari. You two enjoy the show now~” With that, he took off to look for his friends.

“Bunny ea--? Mari!” Yuuri scooted from his sister as she retracted her hand from behind his head. She was smiling to herself, looking entirely too pleased. “So Phichit told you about this?”

Unsurprisingly, there was already a cigarette balanced on her fingers, and she smiled at him through the soft lights and smoke. “Yeah, he knows I’m into the music scene so he likes sending me Facebook invites to a bunch of little concerts since he has so many connections.”

That made sense. Back at home, Yuuri knew that her walls were covered with a bunch of posters of her favorite bands and idol groups, as well as the tickets of concerts she’d been to.

She glanced at him. “You look nice, little brother.”

“Really? I didn’t do anything much this time.” He initially thought to not to get too dressed up for the show, but he wanted to hide the sunken look in his eyes just a bit and put some color to his cheeks, if just to cover up how depressed he’d been feeling. He supposed before he knew it though he was pulling out his favorite highlighter and styling his hair a bit. Well, he needed to don any armor he had to protect his still-tender wounds. Just in case, he made sure everything was tear-proof.

Mari nodded, sure. “I’m so jealous, you always do your eyebrows so on point. Aren’t I supposed to be better at this kind of thing?” Her eyes softened a bit. “How’ve you been hanging on?”

Yuuri dropped his gaze. He hadn’t wanted to tell his parents about what happened, but it was impossible to keep it from Mari who frequented social media and had gotten a bunch of worried calls from Minako. Luckily, she promised to keep it a secret from their parents.

“As best as I can, I guess.”

“That’s good. Getting out will be good for clearing your head too.” She leaned back on her seat and tilted her head towards him. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna do next?”

“Not yet…” He watched Phichit laugh with his friends -- their names were Leo and Guang-hong if he remembered right -- and show off his camera to them, testing out what settings worked in the dim lighting. “I mean, I told Viktor’s agent that I probably wouldn’t be appearing at work anytime soon. I’ve been thinking about spending time at Minako’s again, just to keep myself busy.”

Mari took a drag, leisurely blowing the smoke out between her lips before replying, “I see.”

The small crowd sitting at the other tables and mingling on the sparse dance floor erupted into claps as the band got on stage. A handsome Hispanic boy that Yuuri assumed to be Leo stood up front in center with his guitar, smiling at the cute doe-eyed Asian boy, likely Guang-hong, on keyboard next to him.

“Hey, thanks for coming tonight, guys. We are Still Alive and we hope you enjoy our show!”

The first notes of the song started, and the rising night began to swell with smooth music as strobe lights burst into dance on stage. Yuuri spent the next few minutes watching people sway and bounce with the music, the beats thumping against the walls of the neighboring bars, urging everyone within hearing range to join in the fun. Phichit snapped away on his camera, bouncing all over for different angles and half-laying on the stage, a smile on his face the whole time. Yuuri laughed, nodding in time with the upbeat tune.

“What about Viktor?” Mari finally asked in between songs, stuffing out her cigarette in the empty Altoids tin she carried in her bag.

Yuuri wet his lips like he’d be able to taste the answer. All there was though was the citrus flavor of his chapstick. “What...about him?”

“You told me what happened, so I know that even though Viktor didn’t hurt you on _purpose_ , I wonder if everything is okay with you two. I mean, if you still want to stay in this industry and work with him, I’ll support you, but…” She started drawing hearts in her ash. “You like the guy so much. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of that, especially the man himself.”

 _No, Mari. Viktor isn't like that,_ Yuuri thought. There were plenty of things that Yuuri was unsure about, but he could say that he wasn't being taken advantage of. A mutual feeling connected them, even if it was a bit tangled right now. It was probably not as obvious to a third party, to people who could only see Viktor as a celebrity and Yuuri as a plain man who walked into his life. But never once had Viktor imposed the difference in their status to Yuuri; if anything, Yuuri could remember many moments where status was completely irrelevant to their relationship.

In Japanese, Mari asked, “Have you talked at all?”

“That’s…” While it was true that Yuuri had explained what happened at the interview, only Phichit knew what went on between him and Viktor afterward: the outrage and desperate tears at the parking lot, Yuuri crumbling right in front of Viktor again, and declaring that they end things between them -- and, of course, how Viktor had given him no answer when Yuuri asked why Viktor wanted him by his side. The situation was more complicated than his sister knew.

But maybe it was easier than Yuuri was making it.

If he was lucky, Viktor still wanted them to be together. At worst, Viktor had taken Yuuri’s words at face-value and was indeed leaving him alone forever. Not that Yuuri could blame him -- who would want to associate with someone as turbulent as him?

“Maybe I should,” Yuuri conceded.

Somehow, through the music’s lively pulse, Mari heard him, and she hummed in support.

“I’m gonna get a drink at the absinthe place. Want to come with?”

“Ah, no thanks. I’m going to stay here.”

“Alright, you’ll know where I’ll be.” Mari got up to toss her ashes in the nearby trashcan before stuffing the Altoids tin back in her bag. Then she reached over and tousled Yuuri’s hair. “ _Ja ne_.”

“ _Un_.” Yuuri watched her walk into the bar, settling into a booth by herself. To an outsider, she probably looked a little lonely, but Yuuri knew that Mari was perfectly content spending time on her own. The Katsuki siblings might’ve always been a little strange in that sense, comfortable on their own.

In Yuuri’s case, it made him used to not reaching out or building bridges, and was terrible at meeting people halfway in order to understand them.

Yuuri pulled out his phone and laid it on the table. The fairylights were reflected on it, perfectly bordering the club scene of Yuuri’s wallpaper. He’d taken his posters of Viktor down at home, unable to meet those piercing blue eyes even on paper; it had been too much to face when he’d been feeling so raw.

Still, he’d kept his wallpaper the same, and it was a soft reminder of that moment of happiness he’d shared with Viktor, the two of them wrapped up in their own little world.

They _had_ been each other’s world in that moment, their eyes unable to see anyone else. It was clear to anyone who saw the picture.

On stage, Leo and Guang-hong had started another, slower song, full of soft piano and sweet guitar strumming. Yuuri hummed at the tune of it, appreciating the tender sound. It sounded like Viktor’s fingertips over the back of Yuuri’s palm, like the warm gleam in his eyes, like the spread of his lips when he drew out the syllables of Yuuri’s name as if they were a melody.

There was no denying that even right now, Yuuri loved Viktor. It had been Yuuri to suggest that things end between them, but it wasn’t like the love that had taken root in his heart could go away so easily. Not after Yuuri had finally seen a glimpse of the man that existed outside the cameras and runways. Not when he’d come to life before Yuuri’s eyes in a completely new way.

Viktor had brought Yuuri into his world time and again with a smile, and told Yuuri every day how beautiful he was. Despite how Viktor with-held certain important words, he was honest and sincere about everything. That whole-heartedness was what Yuuri admired about him. It made it so easy to believe in everything Viktor did for him. It made it easy to fall in love with him. It made it possible for Yuuri to think maybe, just maybe, Viktor loved him too.

There was still a lot Viktor didn’t say though. Then again, there was a lot Yuuri never said either.

With a braced breath, Yuuri started going through his voicemails.

The very first message was -- silence. Nothing. Had he accidentally hung up? Yuuri looked at the screen, saw the seconds of the call continue on, and brought his phone back to his ear, confused.

Then he heard it -- a tiny, disappointed, “ _Dammit_.” It was soft, almost lost to the music on stage, but the voice was one Yuuri could recognize immediately.

He got up, quickly  shuffling over to the front of the absinthe bar and pressing his phone closer to his ear. Distantly, he heard the sound of traffic in the voicemail. Had Viktor called him while driving again? _You idiot, what have I said about that?_ Yuuri thought, but the sincerity of the scolding couldn’t touch the fondness he had for Viktor’s antics.

“ _Hey_ , zvyozdochka,” came Viktor’s voice at last. “ _I, uh… I know I’m the last person in the world you want to hear from, but if you could just not hang up on me, just for a minute, I-- I’d just like to talk to you_ .” Viktor let out a defeated breath, and his voice was quieter afterwards. “ _I shouldn’t have let you go. I told myself that I’d keep you close, that I’d show you beautiful things, that I’d show you that_ you _were beautiful. But today… I guess I only gave you all the ugly things. And I_ know _it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I really am sorry, Yuuri. Even…even if it’s just for a minute or two,_ please _call me back. I want to hear you out, everything you’ve been thinking_.”

There was another long pause. Yuuri leaned against the brick of the building, pressing the phone even closer, the screen sticking to the heat of his cheeks.

Then, finally: “Spokoynoi nochi , _Yuuri_.”

“ _To replay this message, press_ …” Yuuri touched his keypad, then listened to Viktor’s message again. Then again. He tried to decipher what Viktor meant by his words, understanding the apology, but little else. His mind swirled with the reasons behind what Viktor was saying about showing him beautiful things, about keeping Yuuri by his side. And then there were the words he’d said in Russian, which Yuuri could remember faintly from their drunken night, the two of them wrapped perfectly in each other’s warmth.

Even if Yuuri wanted to end things, he wouldn’t be able to forget that warmth for as long as he lived. His heart craved it, reaching out in endless yearning for the voice it had grown accustomed to hearing every day.

 _...Shit_ . What had Yuuri _done_?

He brought up his texts, thumb hastily typing out a message.

 

_ >Can we meet up? _

 

He waited for the little “sent” checkmark before pocketing his phone. It was a little lighter in his pocket now, despite the fact that Yuuri hadn’t deleted Viktor’s voicemail.

Yuuri took a deep breath. He would be okay. Because even though Phichit said he had a horrible track record with being right about anything, Yuuri felt in his heart that he did know at least _one_ thing.

* * *

As soon as Yuuri stepped into the salon, Minami practically flung himself to Yuuri’s side and clung to him like a baby koala for hours. Even when Minako snapped for him to go back to work, Minami hovered around Yuuri, ranting away about how worried he’d been, that he was sorry he couldn’t be there for Yuuri, and that he’d missed him since he left the salon. Despite the overwhelming onslaught of the rant, Yuuri couldn’t find the heart to swat him away.

Prom season had arrived, so plenty of high-schoolers were milling into the salon to get their hair and make-up done. It was a never-ending parade of glitter and flowers, and Yuuri was perfectly happy to keep himself busy pinning hair and curling eyelashes.

“I was still in Japan when I was these kids’ age, so there was never anything like prom going on. I kinda feel like I missed out,” Minako started to conversate with him in Japanese under the teenagers’ lively chatter. “Getting all dolled up, dancing the night away, after-parties with carefully-procured booze…”

“Were you a drunkard even in high school?” Yuuri asked dully.

In a not-so-subtle changing of the subject, Minako pointed her curling iron at Yuuri. “Hey, Minami-kun! Can you believe this guy here stayed home playing videogames the night of his prom?”

“No way! No one asked you to be their date?” Minami gaped, looking utterly in disbelief at this information.

Yuuri hunched his shoulders, doing his best to block the memories of his uneventful youth. He could distinctly recall Yuuko insisting for two weeks that they could all go as a group, but Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to third wheel on her and Takeshi’s special night. In the end, he settled in his room with the latest _Final Fantasy_ game.

“You know, I’m really not as popular as you think, Minami…”

“That’s not true! Maybe your suitors were too shy to ask! I would’ve asked you for sure! For sure!!” Minami’s face grew redder and redder with each word. He scrubbed the broom vigorously into the floor until cut hair was flying at their ankles.

After a quick scolding from Minako, Minami was back on task, and she smiled mischievously. “You’re bold, Minami-kun, I’ll give you that. But even if you asked him, Yuuri already had an ideal date tacked to his wall.” She started to giggle as she said it, but then caught herself when she met Yuuri’s eye and looked apologetic.

Yuuri only printed out a receipt and wished his client and her mother a good day. He didn’t think too deeply about Minako’s words, knowing she meant no harm by it. After all, his silly idolizing crush on Viktor had been so prevalent in his life that being teased about it was practically routine.

And it was true, anyway. Yuuri _had_ fantasized that prom night about dancing under the mirrored ceiling and starlight floor with Viktor Nikiforov.

It had been so silly -- Viktor would be in the same silver suit he’d worn in that prom issue of Teen Vogue when he was eighteen, a blue rose pinned to his front and his ponytail. Yuuri of course would be wearing a matching and equally fashionable ensemble. Viktor’s long hair would be brushed over his shoulder and Yuuri would twirl his fingers around it lovingly when they slow-danced to “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You”. Yeah, Yuuri had embarrassingly thought about it all.

But first Viktor would pick him up unexpectedly, with desperate passion, like a prince that had dashed through the whole town for his Cinderella. He’d burst through the door, face flushed but still looking utterly perfect. And when he found Yuuri, his ice-blue eyes would glitter bright, like Yuuri was the beloved sun reflected in them.

 _Exactly what he looked like right now_.

Yuuri straightened up to attention. The door’s chimes rang and Viktor appeared inside the salon. Tilting his head up from the counter, Yuuri’ vision ran slow at the edges, clearly taking in only the man in front of him.

Viktor’s sunglasses -- the only item of disguise he had on, assuming he was even trying to hide himself -- hung low on his nose, threatening to clatter to the floor. All of Viktor seemed ready to hit the floor, complete with the faint shake of his legs and the straps of his designer bag slowly slipping off his shoulder. He leaned on the counter for support now that he’d completed his journey, and Yuuri made a point to not move away, only to keep his eyes on him.

“Welcome,” Yuuri said, only because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Thank you for having me,” Viktor replied, slowly relaxing. He seemed to not notice anything else around him now that he’d found Yuuri, and Yuuri had to admit that he was starting to forget where he was too, the shop’s environment fading into the background of his awareness.

It had only been a few days since he’d last seen Viktor, but the time apart was enough to make Viktor seem like a dream all over again, especially given the states they’d been in the last time they’d spoken. Recalling Viktor’s insistent grip on his shoulders, his raised voice paralyzing Yuuri’s muscles, made Yuuri’s heart ache all over again. Every word they’d yelled in anger hung heavily in the air between them, and they both averted their eyes.

Eventually, Yuuri did look at Viktor again, attention caught by the sound of him folding his sunglasses to place in his bag. He met Yuuri’s eyes, and offered a small smile as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“I have an appointment. I hope I’m not late.”

They hadn’t settled on a time, but it hadn’t stopped Yuuri from looking up anxiously every time the door chimed for the greater part of the day. He’d decided on Minako’s salon to meet up so he could relax in the familiar environment and in the fact that his friends were close by. While he was grateful that Viktor had come at all, and that the twisted expression of desperation and anguish wasn’t the last he’d ever see of Viktor face-to-face, Yuuri couldn’t help but tap a finger in mock impatience over the planner Minako had open.

“Just a little.” Yuuri nodded further into the salon. “We have an empty seat in the corner there, if you want to sit down.”

Viktor went along with this without complaint, following Yuuri to a chair that was away from Minako and Minami’s curious gazes. They both regarded Viktor with a level of suspicion, but Yuuri had already told them beforehand to let him handle things on his own. Neither of them returned the wave and smile Viktor gave them, and returned to their work, although clearly keeping a close eye on things.

Halfway to sitting down, Viktor paused. He turned to Yuuri. “Actually, why don’t _you_ take a seat?”

“What?”

The corners of Viktor’s lips quirked up, a smile that was more natural and easygoing than before. “Take a seat. It’ll be easier to talk. And I want you to relax.”

“Oh, I see. So you’re buttering me up?”

To his credit, Viktor looked abashed. “Not completely. But you’ve always taken care of me, Yuuri. I just wanted to do the same for you for once.”

Yuuri hesitated behind the seat, picking at the leather of the chair. If Viktor was charming him with sweetness, it was working. A more petulant part of his mind reminded him that he _was_ still upset. He’d woken up today with a resolve to clear things up between them, but also make sure Viktor knew why he’d been so frustrated and anxious back then. If Viktor treating Yuuri helped with that, then Yuuri would let him do so -- besides, indulging in Viktor’s touch that he missed wouldn’t be the least of Yuuri’s benefit from this.

He shuffled forward, switching places with Viktor and slowly sliding into the seat. For a moment, they were still, Yuuri staring at his hands in his lap. In the mirror, he could see Viktor hovering behind him, head bowed to stare down at Yuuri. His gaze alone tickled Yuuri’s scalp, the electric hum intensifying in waves when Viktor finally did weave his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. He petted through the dark strands pensively, his thumb running along the locks, stroking them, memorizing their feel.

It felt pleasant, _too_ pleasant, and Yuuri suppressed a shiver.

“You really _are_ trying to charm your way out of this,” he murmured, reluctantly feeling himself melt under the press and run of Viktor’s fingertips against his head.

“No, I just-- I just missed you, is all. Even just a few days was too much, especially with how things were left.” The corner of Viktor’s lips quirked up. “I’m glad. I thought for sure you’d never want to see my face again, and that went double for never letting me touch you.” His fingers raked slowly through Yuuri’s hair, and both of them soaked in the contact with barely-concealed longing.

“I’m glad,” Viktor repeated. “Though I suppose this isn’t the same as forgiveness.”

“No,” Yuuri agreed quietly. “It’s not.”

Viktor retracted his hand. He reached for a comb, and replaced his touch against Yuuri’s scalp with it. “You’re right to never forgive me for the incident.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri murmured, ignoring the prickle behind his eyes. Shit, was he getting worked up _already_? He took a calming breath. “At least it’s over with. But I bet you and Yakov have been dealing with a lot ever since.”

Viktor shrugged. “We’ve been in this industry a lot longer. I know what to avoid and how to stand back up like nothing happened. It was a bit harder this time, but hey, I’m here, aren’t I?” His usual smile returned a little, the one that didn’t let anything break it, full of no care or consequence. “For the most part, things have been taken care of with that host. My team took care of the legalities and damage control is going smoothly. Yakov predicts it’ll all be in the past within the week.”

Relief flooded Yuuri’s body. “That’s great.”

Even if it was good news, a frown slowly creased Viktor’s brow. “They...assure me that they didn’t do anything to you.”

“They didn’t,” Yuuri reassured. “I swear.”

Viktor exhaled, looking like at least some weight had been lifted from his shoulders. After a moment, he tugged at the tips of Yuuri’s bangs, which had gotten long again. Not as bad as before, but they certainly tickled his eyelashes. Viktor put the comb down and plucked up some silver shears hiding behind some hairsprays.

“Can I?”

“Huh? Oh.” Yuuri quirked a half-smile. “Do you promise not to stab me?”

“I’d never harm a hair on your head,” Viktor vowed. He snipped the scissors in the air. “Well, anymore than this.”

They shared a soft, awkward laugh. Yuuri took off his glasses and pulled the protective plastic sheet around his shoulders. Then, Viktor stepped in front of him and started to snip at Yuuri’s bangs.

The quiet snipping sounds were comforting and familiar, and Viktor’s hands were warm and steady. Sitting in front of him, Yuuri felt the gesture was a lot more domestic than impersonal, like lovers grooming each other. This was probably thanks to the years Yuuri spent seeing his mother cut his father’s hair, and his father pinning back his mother’s bangs with new accessories he’d gotten her, both of them wearing tender, adoring smiles.

Eventually, the same tenderness budding in Yuuri’s heart drew back slightly. When Viktor moved on from his bangs to the rest of his hair, Yuuri opened his eyes, conviction reflected in them.

“I’m angry with you, Viktor,” he said.

Even without his glasses on, Yuuri could see how Viktor’s shoulders dropped slightly. “You should be. I’m...I’m so sorry, Yuuri. You know I am, right? I was just -- so _upset_. And I know that doesn’t make up for anything, but…”

“I know. He said really terrible things about you.”

“True, but it was when he started talking about _you_ that I got to the breaking point. I had wanted to protect you from his words, because I knew you already had doubts about being in SV. I _knew_ how much doubt you had and I thought I could make you feel like you belong with us, that you’re so incredibly talented and wonderful, I… I wanted everyone to see what I saw when I looked at you.”

“Well, I mean, what was on TV wasn’t inaccurate,” Yuuri said with a dry scoff before he could stop himself.

Viktor’s next snip was a bit more petulant, his words rolling off slowly and disbelieving. “You...really don’t have a lot of confidence in yourself, do you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri waltzed around the question and shot back, “Neither do you.”

“I’m _Viktor Nikiforov_ . I’m confidence and sex incarnate,” Viktor was quick to defend, reciting the headline of countless magazine articles on him. But Yuuri knew that his counter was right, and he knew that _Viktor_ knew Yuuri wasn’t deceived for a moment.

 _Stop hiding from me_.

He brushed the stray hair from Yuuri’s cheeks and shoulders. His thumb stroked slowly over the soft skin over Yuuri’s cheekbones in thought. Without thought, Yuuri leaned into the touch, so loving that he could cry. From pain or adoration though, he wasn’t sure.

“Viktor,” he whispered. “You like me, right? I mean, you really weren’t using me just to cover up all your insecurities, right?”

Viktor put the shears down, brushing back Yuuri’s freshly cut bangs and exposing his forehead. Viktor’s body curled in toward him, his lips pressing briefly down on Yuuri’s head. “Of course not,” he said. “I swear it, Yuuri, I don’t want you in order to save my career.”

“Then _why_ are you so obsessed with me making you beautiful? Because it wasn’t the interview that hurt me, at least not as much as you not answering why you needed me with you!” The frustration bubbled to the surface, Yuuri’s body growing hot. This time, he couldn’t stop the quick well of his angered tears.

“...Because I wanted to know what you saw in me,” Viktor admitted quietly. “The way you do make-up, Yuuri, is like you drawing on the most dazzling essence of a person. You may not have confidence in how you see yourself, but you’re very devoted to bringing out the best of  what you see in other people. I… I wanted to know what you saw under this face, under my skin. And it worked, you know. With every commercial, every show and photoshoot… I got obsessed with the beautiful _feeling_ you gave me, not just the physical aspects.”

“And is that supposed to be better?” Yuuri brushed Viktor’s hands away from him, and Viktor’s stunned expression met him in the mirror.

_That doesn’t make me feel better. Whether it’s a feeling I give you or a physical appearance, isn’t it just your self-satisfaction in the end? Isn’t that the same as using me?_

_Or maybe I’m just being unfair to you. Because I’m looking for my own satisfaction too; I too am so selfishly waiting for you to say what my heart is dreaming of. I want you to realize that only I can give you whatever you need, that only I can satisfy you. That you don’t need to worry about anyone else looking at you, because my gaze has never strayed from you._

“I only ever feel like a _person_ if you’re there, Yuuri,” Viktor said, the struggle to find the words to explain himself plain on his face. “And it’s _only_ with you.”

Yuuri slowly slid the plastic sheet from his shoulders and slid his glasses back on, listening.

“I came to apologize about what happened at the interview. But mostly, I wanted to apologize for not being honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I hurt you, Yuuri. I’m sorry I made a mess of our relationship. If you really want to quit being my make-up artist, I understand. But _please_ don’t do it because you think you don’t belong in SV, or that I don’t genuinely cherish you. I really love you, after all.”

All the air in Yuuri’s lungs escaped him, and he wondered if he’d heard that right. He certainly wasn’t imagining the pull in his chest or the bright, unwavering shimmer in Viktor’s eyes. It was the most vulnerable that Yuuri had ever seen him, the expression he’d only seen glimpses of these past months finally blossomed to completion.

And _yet_ the only thing his dumb mouth managed to push out was a, “Really? I’m glad.”

“Oh?” Viktor seemed confused about this anticlimactic response, the lines around his eyes deepening in hurt.

Quickly, Yuuri added, “Yeah. It’s just… I’ve been so worried if I was suitable to work with you, to even be beside you, when I was so plain. I was just a dime-a-dozen cosmetician, meanwhile you were _perfect_ and a walking _masterpiece_ and… I didn’t think there was any way for us to be on equal footing.”

“Well, you didn’t make it easy,” Viktor said, humor lightly lacing his words, and Yuuri released a dry laugh too recalling every time he’d pulled away from Viktor. That had to have hurt Viktor all this time too. Yuuri knew the distances he created between himself and others was awkward, but this was the first time he was really feeling guilty about it.

“I suppose I didn’t. I’m sorry too, Viktor. Out of everyone, I didn’t want _you_ to see my shortcomings. You fought so hard to make me your make-up artist and encourage me… I didn’t want to let you down.” He smiled, thinking of the posters and magazines now under his bed, his YouTube account full of favorited runway shows Viktor had been in.

For years, he’d been captivated by Viktor and the world he manifested from the inside out. “I’ve watched your career for so long, even though I’m not a model. I looked up to you for your confidence, your fearlessness, how you opened my eyes up to a world so vibrant and beautiful and wearing it all on your skin, like it was your shining armor in a judgmental world. It gave me some confidence to do what I do too, to imitate that fierceness. And...it was always a silly wish of mine to make you a masterpiece too. But I guess I was too used to a distance being between us, like you weren’t supposed to be real.”

Viktor picked at the chair’s leather, silver starlight lashes fluttering as he glanced down, as if he feared Yuuri’s answer to his next question: “And now?”

“Now I can see how stupid that was. Of course you’re your own person. Of course you’re real, too. The Viktor that I’ve come to know is more dazzling, frustrating, and beautifully flawed than I could ever imagine.”

“Are you saying _good_ things?” Viktor said through a laugh, the first one to be full of mirth. It made Yuuri smile too, more than a little satisfied over the petty revenge. Before he knew it though, Viktor leaned toward him again, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri couldn’t see his expression as Viktor’s fringe fluttered into view, his nose pressing against the side of Yuuri’s neck.

“This definitely feels real,” Viktor murmured, sounding like he was telling himself more than Yuuri.

Yuuri stared at their reflection, knowing how ridiculous they must look. A few curious customers glanced over, but were unable to confirm Viktor’s identity with his face hidden against Yuuri. As for Yuuri, he let himself become still, then gradually unfurl in Viktor’s arms, allowing his flesh and heart grow full of this warmth he had missed. He soaked Viktor’s steady breaths in, filling his lungs once more with everything _Viktor_.

And it did feel so boldly, unabashedly real.

* * *

“Where did you learn to cut hair?”

Viktor turned his head to look over at Yuuri. The shadows and vibrant orange light of the sunset shifted on the planes of his face as he did so, but the gleam in his eyes remained all the same.

They sat in Alejandro on the open-roof of SV’s parking lot. No other cars were around, and even the surrounding buildings escaped their field of view when they reclined the seats back and stared up at the spread of evening sky above them. It gave them the feeling of being perfectly alone with each other, time slowing down enough to match their heartbeats together. At this time of day, both the sun and moon were visible, the first stars dotting the spill of orange and pink and lavender. On Viktor’s fair skin, the colors gave him a sweet glow.

A nostalgic smile drew on Viktor’s lips. “Remember back when I had long hair? I decided that I would cut it myself in secret. And well, I thought if I was going to do it, I’d do it right, so I looked up tons of tutorials before I did the deed.” He flipped his bangs dramatically. “I’ve been managing it ever since. I can only really do trims though, so if you wanted a style, you’d have to ask Georgi.”

Yuuri hummed. “Why _did_ you cut your hair? I mean, I know you got that question a lot, but I want to hear it from you.”

Viktor shrugged. “There’s no special reason. I like surprising people, so I got excited thinking how shocked people would be. I was already going to be nineteen anyway, so I wanted a change. I got antsy, thinking of having the same appearance, so I re-invented, that’s all.” Viktor seemed to realize how honest the confession was and cleared his throat. “Plus, it was getting in the way all the time! It was annoying whenever it caught on a zipper or sequin, and it took _forever_ to style it.”

Yuuri backpedaled to the first confession, and shifted his body to face Viktor. “It really bothers you to keep changing yourself, doesn’t it?”

For a moment, Viktor looked like he debated answering. But finally, he murmured, “It didn’t. At first, anyway.” Viktor searched the sky a bit longer, as if hoping the conversation would fade out with just that.

But Yuuri wasn’t going to let go so easily. Not when he wanted to know what Viktor was thinking. If they couldn’t at least talk a little about this, they’d only fight again, and Yuuri never wanted a repeat of the parking lot incident again. He reached out, his hand ghosting over the back of Viktor’s. After running his thumb across the knuckles, he laced their fingers together. To his joy, Viktor squeezed his hand, a smile slowly drawing on his lips.

He faced Yuuri now too, eyes moving from the sky to their linked hands. “I started getting scared,” he confessed, “about what would happen when re-inventing myself wasn’t enough for this industry anymore. I wondered who I’d be without modeling. I started to dread going through shoots and shows. When I found you, Yuuri, I thought this was my chance -- not to save my career but...to find out what I could build without tearing it down to make something else. I didn’t expect to connect with you so much, but it became another reason why I wanted you to stay close to me. Am I making sense? You put color and glamour _inside_ me, Yuuri. You gave me life, you gave me love. No one else in the world could possibly have done this.”

Yuuri had to admit, he had some trouble following the words Viktor was desperately trying to string together. But still, he could understand that he’d been right about one thing after all -- Viktor did care about him. Viktor _cherished_ him, just the same as Yuuri did for Viktor.

 _He’s being so honest with me, laying himself bare. ...I should do the same. I should tell him everything too. I_ want _to tell him_ . Yuuri’s heart thumped a mile a minute. _I want to tell him that I love him. That he’ll always be beautiful to me. That I think I understand how he feels about wanting to build something inside himself. I want that too._

_Can we make something, together?_

“I got worried when you left,” Viktor whispered. “I thought I accidentally destroyed everything, and I’d have to re-invent anyway. Not that anything I come up with alone could make up for what we left behind.”

Yuuri shook his head fervently, bringing their hands up to his chest, imploring Viktor to feel his heartbeat. The conviction thrumming through his veins was a strange sensation, but Yuuri didn’t want Viktor to be the only one to open up today. Yuuri wanted to meet him halfway, to be the one to close the distance for once.

“No,” he said, “not left behind. Viktor, I know I run away a lot. I _know_ I have doubts as big as this building. And I admit, I still have no clue why you want me around. But...I want to have faith in you. You believe in me. You always say I’m lovely and you praise my work and you never seem to look away from me. I can’t _ignore_ that, like I ignore so many things. I refuse to accept a lot of things because I’ve always convinced myself that I was weird, and alone…” His words tumbled out in a fervor, like he was running down a steep hill and trying not to trip over himself, only running faster and faster.

Luckily, Viktor continued to hold his hand. This time, he offered Yuuri comfort, and stroked the side of Yuuri’s face. It was so adoring, and a healing force to Yuuri’s resolve. He had to push through.

“But being around you, I feel like for the first time, I know what I want. I want to fight for you, like you fought for me. I want to see everything you have to offer, Viktor -- all the beautiful things and all the ugly things. You don’t have to make the world or yourself gilded just for me. I want to know and see _everything_ , and I...I hope that even if I end up showing you not-so-beautiful things too, that you’ll still want me. From now on, I’ll do my best to keep working with you, and not run away anymore.” Yuuri’s cheeks grew red, both from the exertion of his confession and the idea that there really could be something dazzling enough in him that he could captivate Viktor the same way he captivated Yuuri.

They were in front of mirrors all the time, so how could they not see the beauty in themselves that they so clearly saw in each other?

“Please...say something.”

“...Your heart is beating so fast,” Viktor mused out loud.

Yuuri chanced a glance when Viktor pulled his hand forward, pressing his knuckles against his lips, kissing them one by one. Then, with a smile, he brought their linked hands to his chest too.

“Mine is too,” Viktor said. And sure enough, Yuuri could faintly feel the allegro tempo of Viktor’s heartbeat, riding the gentle rise and fall of his breath. Yuuri marvelled at the strong, unwavering feeling of it, feeling closer to Viktor than he had ever been before. He couldn’t resist; he unfurled the binding of their hands to press his palm over Viktor’s chest, like he could directly cradle his heart.

And then Viktor’s voice was thrumming under his hand too. “Yuuri, my sweet _zvyozdochka_ , no matter what you showed me, you can’t convince me to back away from you. I want to see everything, too.” Viktor’s smile was tender and dazzling in the last rays of the sun. “In return, I’ll try to not hide from you either. Does that sound like a deal?”

Yuuri nodded, tears of overwhelming happiness filling his eyes. “Okay.”

Under his palm, Viktor’s pulse picked up again. He didn’t pull his hand away, even as Viktor shifted even closer. The gap between the seats made it a bit awkward, but Viktor still did his best to lean over Yuuri, Yuuri gazing up into a view of gorgeous blue eyes where the sky had once been.

“Yuuri,” his voice rained down on Yuuri’s slightly-parted lips, “ _ya lyublyu tyebya. Ya lyublyu tyebya fsyem syertsem_.”

As much as Yuuri loved the sweet, rich roll of Russian off of Viktor’s tongue, he couldn’t take being left out of the loop of Viktor’s real feelings for much longer. His lips drew down in a moue. “That’s not fair, Viktor. You said you wouldn’t hide.”

Viktor laughed. “That I did. Okay then. Yuuri, I--”

A profuse buzzing sounded, and Viktor jumped, feeling over the pocket of his jeans. At the insistent vibrating, he sighed and pulled out his phone, tsking at the screen. “You’ve got to be joking,” he said dryly.

Yuuri glanced over, seeing Yakov’s name on the screen. “Yikes. I guess you should get that.”

“It’ll be just a _moment_ ,” Viktor vowed, backing up to his seat again and picking up. Following the angered buzzing of the phone was, predictably, Yakov’s bellowing on the other end of the line. Yuuri had no idea what was being said because, again, Russian came up, and he awkwardly sat there as Viktor tried to reason with his dear agent.

After less than a minute, Viktor hung up with a relieved sigh. “Goodness, that man never runs low of energy.”

“What happened?”

“Oh. I _might_ have skipped out on some meetings today. Yakov is demanding my presence right away so we can start planning the summer shows.” Viktor stretched, shoulders and back popping. He gave a dissatisfied groan. “I’m _definitely_ getting old.”

“I think you’ll age well,” Yuuri reassured with a small laugh. “Like fine wine.”

“And you’re _sweet_ like fine wine,” Viktor countered. As if it were a completely natural thing to do, Viktor leaned in to kiss Yuuri’s forehead for the second time that day. “Join me? The meeting will be horrible enough. Unless you still don’t want to go inside SV, in which case I’ll take you home, of course.”

Yuuri shook his head, his cheeks still flustered, he was sure. He couldn’t tell anymore if it was because he was embarrassed from the lingering feeling of Viktor’s soft lips, or if he was just that _happy_. “I’ll go with you. I should probably properly talk to Yakov anyway.”

“Okay." Viktor flashed him a brilliant smile. "Let’s go then, before he breaks a hole in the roof.”

They exited Alejandro and made their way back into Stammi Vicino's building. If Viktor slowed the walk of his longer legs so that he and Yuuri could walk side-by-side, neither of them acknowledged it. And if Yuuri leaned his shoulder against Viktor's when they entered the elevators, the two of them breaking into smiles at the soft contact of their brushing fingertips, then neither of them were making a big fuss about it.  

These little things were just starting to feel more natural now that it was easier to breathe between them again. And, Yuuri hoped, it would be easier too from here on out to open up what they kept hidden on the inside, for better or for worse.

That was simply the kind of love and trust Yuuri wanted to build with Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we've all read enough YOI fics to know what Viktor said B) And ah yes, I became one of Those Authors, the one that cockblocks a confession moment :'') smh @ me
> 
> Follow me on twitter @RenOnIceCream for more general YOI yelling! I'll do my best to bring another update soon. I...have no idea how many more chapters will be left BUT I know the general in-story time-frame when this series will end. I'm thinking maybe another 3 or 4 chapters? We'll see. But I hope I can keep seeing you guys around! <3


	10. you don't have to say i love you to say i love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, everyone! It's nice to see you again. First off, I want to thank everyone who left a comment on my hiatus note; each and every one meant so much to me, and I'm very thankful to everyone's well-wishes. I made sure to screenshot them before I took down the note because you're all so sweet and understanding :') Just a mini-update: my life is still going through several changes BUT I'm really hoping that things can start taking a better turn within the next few weeks as I try to make a new job and a move happen. So crossed fingers!! ;u; I've been feeling a little better though, and writing again has brought joy to me. This chapter is kind of a filler, but just consider it easing it into things before we get to some Good Stuff next chapter. Nonetheless, I hope y'all enjoy! Thank you again for being patient and supportive through my hiatus <3
> 
> HELLA KUDOS TO KADEN FOR BETA-ING FOR ME AGAIN, this chapter came out much gayer thanks to you. Yes, the runway show's theme was definitely inspired by that Midsummer Night's Dream art. It was. So gorgeous I wept. This chapter's title comes from "for him." by Troye Sivan.

Yuuri’s return to Stammi Vicino was marked by Mila hugging him so hard she lifted him a few inches from the ground. Yakov and Georgi had looked on unsmiling, but with approval in their gazes. Even Yuri Plisetsky pounded a fist half-heartedly to Yuuri’s chest, and he dryly remarked, “ _ It’s about time you got more serious about being here _ .” Since that was about the closest Yuuri would ever get to a nice comment from him, he was determined to not let anyone down anymore.

Most of all, Yuuri didn’t want to let himself down. 

He knew better now what it took for him to stay here in this glamorous world of fashion, and that he had what it took to be here. At the very least, he knew what he _wanted_ by staying here, and that would have to be enough to drive him through the days. That resolve burned in him every morning when he entered Viktor’s dressing room and was greeted with Viktor’s warm, heart-shaped smile.

The summer shows went without a hitch. In the days leading up to the burst of events, Yuuri grew nervous again that the interview incident would leave a negative effect on the show’s outcome. He followed both Yakov and Viktor’s advice and didn’t look up any trashy tabloid talk about the event -- the Twitter mess had been enough, he’d hate to see what people were making up without a 140-character limit. Yuuri decided he’d let his work and his happiness with being Viktor’s make-up artist speak for itself in regards to how his relationship was with him and Stammi Vicino. 

And once it was time to shine for the cameras again, he could see that he had sorely underestimated Stammi Vicino’s following and fanbase. The ballroom was packed, and the runway could’ve been illuminated by camera flashes alone, if not by the sheer brilliance of the models strutting down the sparkling white marble that was framed in puffy pink carnations and orange roses. 

Trails of soft lace tumbled to the floor in waves, and glittering drapes of chiffon spilled down shoulders and veiled the models’ hair like a bride’s. Mila had informed Yuuri beforehand that the theme the designers had gone with this year was fairies. Yuuri thought no better choice could have been made.

The spectacle on stage was full of golden sunshine, vibrant colors, and flourishing fabric like flowers that were coming into bloom. It was the passion and beauty of summer incarnate, each model walking out with the grace and enchantment of the fey. 

And Viktor? He glided onstage like their bewitching sovereign, the Summer King of fey. 

A crown of goldenrods and sunflowers was laid in his hair, matching the sunshine hue of the glittering tights around his legs and ornate golden band around his waist. The collar of his cream shirt dove down his chest, the light playing on the pale expanse of his skin. A sheer, lightweight fabric was pinned to his shoulder-blades and spilled down in fragments of orange and yellow with splinters of black, like the wings of a monarch butterfly that briefly spread out when Viktor turned and twirled for display. Inspired by the bright colors and the sky-blue of Viktor’s shimmering eyes, Yuuri had painted rays of orange and gold from Viktor’s eyes, reminding him of the  _ hanabi  _ that would explode in Japan’s skies during summer festivals.

For a moment, when he lightly dusted the gold dust onto Viktor’s lips, Yuuri thought he could kiss him, and Viktor would taste exactly like sunbursts, sweetly burning his tongue. 

Maybe it was the camera flashes making Yuuri dizzy, or the pounding music rattling his skull too much, but when Viktor pivoted back from the runway, wings fluttering again, Yuuri thought he really was a fairy king, come to whisk him away into his sensual world of mischief and passion. Yuuri would go with him willingly.

Yuuri was a fool for thinking for an instant that Viktor’s brilliance and beauty was something that people wouldn’t trip themselves over to see in the flesh. He was beautiful, a vision that the runway couldn’t possibly be without. Everywhere Viktor walked was a stage.

Viktor smiled at him when he met Yuuri behind the curtains, the bliss in his eyes making his make-up a thousand times more dazzling; like they really were full of fireworks. It imitated the feeling bursting a million times over in Yuuri’s chest.

“You’re staring, Yuuri. Did I steal your tongue as well as your heart?” Viktor winked at him, the light dancing on the glitter of his fluttering eyelashes.

Gods, Yuuri would gift-wrap both of those for Viktor himself if he could, but instead he settled for flicking at the goldenrods crowning Viktor’s head. 

“Gold really suits you,” he said, half in a trance. Really, every color was gorgeous on Viktor, but… “It really makes you shine, like you’re the sun.”  _ The center of everything, pulling in every dazzling star with your gravity _ .

The corners of Viktor’s lips quivered, like he couldn’t decide if he should smile or how much he was allowed express his mirth. In the end, Yuuri watched the red in Viktor’s cheeks bloom beyond the slight brush of rouge he’d given him as he took off his flower crown and placed it on Yuuri’s head.

“Hey!” Yuuri laughed when his vision was suddenly full of petals and leaves.

“If you ask me,” Viktor said, “gold is much more  _ your  _ color, my shining  _ zvyozdochka _ .”

* * *

When Yuuri wasn’t helping Viktor getting ready for a new show or photoshoot, he was killing time by watching him coach the younger models. Up until recently, Yuuri didn’t show up to Stammi Vicino unless he had to, but he was starting to get more curious about what the younger models like Yuri were learning. Being able to spend more time watching Viktor too was a lovely bonus in and of itself.

At first, he feared he might get in the way of training, or maybe Viktor would get self-conscious about Yuuri seeing him in the role of a mentor.  _ Self-conscious _ wasn’t something Yuuri thought existed in Viktor’s vocabulary -- at least, not until that day they mended things, and Yuuri knew now that Viktor had insecurities about his age and changing role in the fashion industry. 

He wasn’t sure what he could do to soothe those insecurities, or if he could be of any help at all, but at the very least, he wanted to watch over Viktor more. He wanted to know even more things about him ; things he probably couldn’t even tell anyone else. It might be incredibly selfish of him, but Yuuri wanted to be the person Viktor trusted most, if at least so he could have some solace among all his work and pressures of the industry. 

If he could see that Viktor wasn’t feeling okay, he could at least greet him with a smile and a coffee, maybe suggest that they hang out together afterward, or head to his place to see Makkachin; it had been a while since Yuuri last visited Viktor’s apartment anyway. He kept hoping to be invited there again. Every moment of his time was something he wanted to spend with Viktor, and there never seemed to be enough hours in the day to make that happen.

In the end, Viktor was  _ delighted  _ to see Yuuri show up on a training day, and promised him to a special treat of seeing him as a mentor. Mila was there too, talking and giggling with Sara in a corner of the studio, staring at something on Sara’s phone. Despite there being less activity and people around today, the studio was anything but relaxing with Lilia making sure her models were properly whipped into shape. 

There were three other models besides Yuri, all of them posing in front of the camera at Lilia’s direction. Viktor stood next to her, giving his input and sometimes demonstrating the expressions and poses that Lilia was trying to have them go for. It really showed how versatile he was, being able to mimic the strengths each model would be able to bring out. 

The man behind the camera was Phichit, who had been ecstatic that Celestino was trusting him with jobs on his own now; this training session was as much for Phichit as it was for Yuri and the others. Yuuri smiled, silently cheering on everyone as he took a seat. 

Training soon reached its end with the sharp clap of Lilia’s hands. “That’ll do for the day. Return at eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning so we can proceed with preparations for the commercial shoot. That means plenty of beauty rest tonight.” She waited for the strong chorus of “Yes, Madame!” before leaving them to head to the dressing rooms.

“You did some fine work today as well, Viktor,” Lilia said, though her usual cold tone made it questionable if she was actually praising him. “Once you put your mind to it, you really can give out some pearls of wisdom to the young ones.”

“Ouch, Madame, I put a-thousand percent in  _ everything _ ,” Viktor said, cracking a grin that even Lilia had to fight off to mirror. 

She hummed, then patted his cheek. “Good. The September Fashion Week is just around the corner, so make sure you remain in top form, Viktor.” Before she turned away, she halted, lingering. Then, her voice lowered, but Yuuri was just barely able to overhear, “I realize that you’ve been given a lot of new responsibilities lately. But I have faith in your abilities, and your way with modeling and fashion. That,” she said, “is why you will always be Stammi Vicino’s pride and shining jewel.”

The mirth in Viktor’s eyes waned some, but it didn’t give way to anything heavy or negative. Yuuri watched the blue shimmer ever-so-slightly, like Viktor was trying hard not to be overcome with emotion at Lilia’s words and tender, proud tone. 

“Thank you. Shall I escort you to your car?” 

“You may.” Lilia shouldered her bag. Viktor draped her signature coat over one arm (didn’t she ever get hot?), and offered his other one for Lilia to hold onto.

He waved to Yuuri as they passed, gesturing that he’d be back in just a moment. Yuuri had no complaints, and gave a thumbs-up both in answer and to show that he thought Viktor had done well as a mentor. It really had been interesting see him take on a new role from the model and fashion icon Yuuri had always seen him as. Just as he surprised Yuuri as a friend, he was a surprisingly adept teacher, even if he did tease Yuri Plisetsky and showed-off a bit too much when demonstrating poses. It was clear that he did have the growth of the younger models at heart, taking the lessons seriously and praising them when they did well. 

As the floor grew empty, Yuuri headed over to where Phichit sat going over his photos on some fancy program on his laptop. Yuuri looked over his shoulder at the rows of photos, admiring the lighting and angles. He zeroed in on Yuri’s pictures, gaping in awe at the intense, gorgeous green hue of his eyes under the light and his clear complexion. 

_ He really will be a beautiful model to rival even Viktor… _

All throughout the shoot, Phichit had worked unexpectedly well with Lilia, knowing just how to take the perfect shot with the poses she put the models in without her saying anything to him. Not that Yuuri ever had any doubts in his best friend’s ability with the camera. He was pretty damn sure Phichit’s first word was “selfie”.

“Phichit, these look amazing!”

Phichit grinned at the praise. “Thanks, man! I don’t have to do as much polishing as I feared.” He released a relieved breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “That Lilia really made me nervous, you know. I honestly half-expected her to snatch my camera and do it herself, but it looks like she trusted me.”

“ _ You _ , nervous?”

“Yuuri, please, I know I look perfect,” he flipped his hair dramatically, “but even I have the fear of the goddess in me.”

Yuuri recalled how he felt the first time he met Lilia, how he wanted to bolt out the door from her ruthless interview. He could empathize with Phichit very well. “You seemed to handle everything like a pro though. Don’t doubt yourself. You’re no mere mortal either.”

“Aww~ That’s some sage advice you could stand to take yourself, y’know.” 

With a scoff, Yuuri lightly shoved his hand against Phichit’s head. They shared a laugh before Phichit clicked through several more shots to get close-ups. Then he lifted his head like he got an idea. He grabbed his camera and shook it in Yuuri’s direction. “Hey, why don’t you get in there?”

“What?  _ There _ ?” Yuuri pointed to the set in front of them where the models had just finished up their shoot. 

“Yeah, it’d be a shame to waste the space while we’re still set up. And I need more practice with the lighting tech here anyway.” 

“Yeah right!” Yuuri gave a pointed look to Phichit’s photos, which were so stunning that he could already visualize them in a magazine’s glossy pages.

Phichit got up from his chair, following Yuuri menacingly around with his camera until he’d backed Yuuri onto the set, which was nothing more than a plum-colored backdrop. Yuuri’s casual clothes of jeans and loose, baby-blue button-down didn’t even match it. As soon as he stepped in front of it though, he heard Phichit’s camera click away. 

“Ack! Phichit, nooo!”

“Come on, Yuuri! Give us a smile!”

“Phichit, you better stop before my face  _ breaks  _ your camera. I won’t replace it!” 

_ Click, click! Click!  _ “One smile!”

Yuuri groaned, slowly lowering his hands from his face. Oh god. This was so ridiculous. The last time Yuuri had posed in front of a camera like this was for his college graduation. If he treated it like that, maybe he could get this over with. 

He gave Phichit a polite smile.

_ Click!  _ Phichit grinned in glee. “Okay, now turn around!” 

“Uh…” Yuuri played along, slowly turning. 

“Do the glance-over-the-shoulder thing!”

“ _ Phichit _ .” Yuuri laughed, starting to have a little fun despite his protests. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t played photoshoot with himself in the bathroom before. He glanced over his shoulder, offering a more genuine smile. The studio strobes flashed this time, momentarily blinding him.

There was some clicking on Phichit’s laptop. “Ehh, there’s a glare on your glasses. You don’t gotta take them off, but maybe, like, lower them a bit?”

“Like this?”

“Oh my god, Yuuri, that’s  _ so sexy _ .” The expected series of camera clicks followed, Phichit darting all around him. With his enthusiasm, it really was starting to feel like some high-energy photoshoot they were doing.

Yuuri cocked a brow. “Hold on, I’ll give you sexy.” He fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, undoing just enough to brush his collar off his shoulders, exposing his skin. He brushed back his bangs before giving Phichit that same over-the-shoulder look over the rim of his glasses, digging up the most seductive look he could muster on the spot.

Someone’s low whistle complimented him, but it hadn’t come from Phichit, who gave an excited cry of, “ _ Scandalous _ !” 

Heat stained Yuuri’s cheeks as he saw  _ Viktor  _ standing just a few feet away, his gaze appraising Yuuri and a finger curled thoughtfully against his chin. By the quirk of his lips, he was  _ quite  _ pleased with what he saw. 

“Viktor! Oh my god!” Yuuri hastened to fix himself and wave off Phichit’s undeterred attempts at taking more photos. “Sorry, we were just messing around, we’ll clear out!” 

“Oh no, please don’t let me ruin the fun.” Viktor came up to Phichit’s laptop, looking through the new pictures of Yuuri that had been automatically uploaded. His smile grew, the mirth reaching his eyes that sparkled even in the dimmed lights of the studio. 

And Phichit… Phichit had a very excited and inspired look on his face, and Yuuri knew this never boded well for him. So of  _ course  _ Phichit’s next words were, “Viktor, do you want to pose with Yuuri? I can take pictures of both of you!”

“Oh, Phichit, that’s--”

“That’s a  _ great  _ idea! Yuuri, let’s do it!” Viktor practically danced towards him, his hands finding Yuuri’s to keep him from running away as he was surely about to do. He squeezed Yuuri’s hands. He was suddenly like a little kid, practically bouncing in place as if he was finally being gifted a present he’d been asking for. “Come on, Yuuri, it’ll be fun~”

“Peer pres-sure, peer pres-sure!” Phichit chanted behind his camera, already angling himself around them. “You were doing so well just a minute ago!”

Cheeks burning, Yuuri stifled a smile by looking away from them. Geez, he hung out with such  _ impossible  _ people. “You, uh, have to tell me what to do. I’m not very photogenic, so…” He looked back up, steeling his courage. “Be my mentor, Viktor!”

Viktor’s grin grew. “You’ve asked just the right man.” He lightly poked at Yuuri’s sides until he could get Yuuri to laugh. Soon enough, both of them were unable to stop their smiles and laughs as Viktor posed them ridiculously and Phichit zipped to and fro with his camera. 

Viktor staged them in a lot of affectionate, couple-y poses that made Yuuri’s heart beat faster as he stared up in Viktor’s eyes, at his lips. But they moved and posed rather loosely too, Viktor embracing him from behind, spinning them around, Yuuri tangling his fingers in Viktor’s silken hair and tousling it, both of them pinching each other’s cheeks as they tried to recreate a dance medley like at the club.

“I bet I could lift you,” Viktor suddenly teased in the middle of one such dance.

Instinctively, Yuuri curled his arm protectively around his soft middle, like that would make him small and feather-light in an instant. Viktor’s arms looked and felt strong, but he’d rather not go through the embarrassment of being dropped. He shook his head. 

“I’d rather you not try,” he laughed nervously. He gave Viktor a once-over. “But… I could lift  _ you _ , probably.” 

“Wh--  _ Oh my god _ \--!” 

Yuuri relished in the look of utter  _ surprise  _ on Viktor’s face when he circled his arms right under Viktor’s firm butt and he picked him right up like he weighed nothing. Actually, he weighed  _ something _ , he was taller and more toned than Yuuri after all, but Yuuri found himself delighting in that solidness and warmth of Viktor filling his arms. 

Startled, Viktor latched his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders for dear life, eyes wide as he tried not to wobble out of Yuuri’s embrace. 

“W-wow,” Viktor looked down at him, “you’re -- strong.” 

_ It’s the pole-dancing _ , Yuuri thought to say. But he’d mention that another time. He never did specify to Viktor what kind of dancing he used to do anyway. Instead, he flushed at the praise, laughing against Viktor’s stomach as hands slowly threaded through his hair in wonder.

“Dear god, you two are  _ so  _ cute,” Phichit said. He took a quick selfie with them in the background, pressing a scandalized hand to his face.

Eventually Yuuri put Viktor back on his feet, but even though they were both standing firmly on the ground, Yuuri’s heart felt like it was soaring high above them. The feeling made him a bit giddy and light-headed, and he wished so much to hold Viktor in his arms like that again. The view of his broad shoulders and narrow waist as he stood behind him around Phichit’s laptop only increased the need. Then he moved closer and saw that the mix of delight and surprise hadn’t left Viktor’s face as he smiled breathlessly at Yuuri.

_ Wait, holy shit _ . He literally just swept Viktor Nikiforov off his feet, didn’t he. _ Oh. Oh shit. _

“Oh my god,  _ please  _ send me all of these!” Viktor said as Phichit scrolled through the pictures. Yuuri had feared that there would be an obvious contrast between him and Viktor that would render the photos odd-looking and unattractive. Viktor was the model who was naturally photogenic after all and Yuuri...was rarely confident enough to take a selfie. He hadn’t even put on any make-up today!

But…maybe he hadn’t needed to. There was a blush on both his and Viktor’s cheeks that needed no rouge to complete, and a sparkle in their eyes that required no eyeshadow to highlight. Whether they were posing with silliness or affection, Yuuri thought the same thing as when he took his first selfie with Viktor. They looked...cute together. Shit, they looked really perfect, or was he just looking at this through rose-tinted glasses? If Yuuri allowed himself to think more though, he was definitely going to fantasize about them taking more pictures like this together, like  _ wedding  _ pictures, and Viktor dressed so handsomely all in white and--

_ This is getting out of hand, you should definitely ask him on a  _ date  _ before planning a _ wedding, drilled a part of his brain. This of course was being directed at the other part of Yuuri that firmly believed he should take his love confession to Viktor to the grave. Let him have a fantasy at least, dammit.

“I’ll print out copies and send them to you,” Phichit promised. It looked like it was finally time for him to start getting back to work, and he started packing up to head to Celestino’s office in the building. 

“Please don’t do that,” Yuuri said, although he knew he was going to ask Phichit for copies too. Once they were in the privacy of home, of course.

Phichit grinned. “I’ll print them and give them pretty frames! What size do you want, Viktor? Wallet-sized? Poster-sized that you can put on your ceiling?” 

Viktor’s eyes lit up. “Can I have both?”

“Sure thing!” 

“ _ Phichit _ .”

“I like your friend,” Viktor said after Phichit had packed up and waved them good-bye. “He’s very agreeable.” 

“Yeah, he’s one-of-a-kind,” Yuuri admitted with a fond sigh. The studio was pretty much empty now, so there was no need to stay. It looked like Mila and Sara had left too -- oh god, he wondered if they had seen his and Viktor’s impromptu photoshoot… He cleared his throat, nodding towards the exit. “Should we head out then?”

“Do you have a destination in mind?”

“Not really. We can get something to eat if you want? Or if you want to go home, you can. As long as I can come too and spend time with Makkachin.”

An offended hand laid on Viktor’s chest as he gasped. “My dog trumps me?”

“He’s adorable! Can you blame me?”

Viktor looked like he was going to fight it, but he closed his mouth. “I can’t even argue that. I was able to perfect my puppy-eyes thanks to him.” 

Yuuri laughed and led them out of the studio. “You should do another shoot with Makkachin since he’s so good-looking too. The one you did a few years back at the beach was really great.”

For a moment, they stood outside the elevators, and in the reflective doors Yuuri could see Viktor was staring at him. He glanced up to meet his gaze, and the intensity of the stare suddenly made him embarrassed. Did he say something funny? Was there a stain on his clothes? But then Viktor slowly broke into a warm smile. 

“Wow,” he said. “You really have been watching me for a long time, huh?” 

Oh god. It was such a natural thing for Yuuri to bring up Viktor’s work. He gushed about it all the time with Yuuko and Phichit, and had been collecting every magazine that even had a mention of Viktor. It was obvious to Yuuri just how long he’d been watching Viktor and his career, and what a big influence he was in Yuuri’s life. 

But now he was getting to know Viktor in such a new, personal way, and it was really putting into perspective the difference between the frozen, beautiful man in posters and the equally stunning one standing beside him that had the most  _ adorable  _ look of surprise on his face when Yuuri lifted him up, like no one had held him like that before. 

All Yuuri could say, looking down at his shoes with a secret smile, was, “I’m glad I never stopped.”

The elevator opened, and Viktor’s hand found Yuuri’s. It was something that happened a lot recently when they were riding the elevator together, but only when they were here in this private space. Yuuri had no idea why, even though it felt like he should know. Either way, he tried to hide from the reflection of his blushing face, and Viktor squeezed his hand. His chest kept fluttering, but it had nothing to do with the elevator’s movements. 

“You really were beautiful in the photos, Yuuri,” Viktor said. “I almost regret not leaving you solo. I could’ve given you a lot more pointers. Oh! We probably could’ve looked for something for you to wear!”

Yuuri almost snorted. “Why would you do that? We were just messing around.”

“This is confirming something I’ve been thinking for a while though. You have potential, Yuuri. I mean it.” The door shuddered to a stop, then opened up. Their hands slowly, reluctantly parted. Viktor let Yuuri off first with an exaggerated bow that had his hand knock against the wall, making them laugh, then led them to the parking lot. 

Once they were opening up Alejandro’s doors, Viktor asked casually, “Have you ever thought about being a model, Yuuri?”

If he hadn’t just sat down in his seat, Yuuri was sure he would’ve tripped or cracked his head open against the car. “A  _ model _ ?” he choked. Was Viktor messing with him? Or was he just blind? Sure, lately Yuuri had been succeeding at building his confidence and self-esteem. He no longer felt awkward being in Stammi Vicino or even in Viktor’s dressing room where he did his work. He was getting better at trusting his instincts when he did Viktor’s make-up and didn’t second-guess his ideas. He was growing more bold and open with his own make-up choices too, and Yuuri… 

Yuuri felt almost  _ beautiful  _ for once. Almost comfortable in his own skin. But suddenly being asked about being a  _ model  _ had him comparing himself again to every other person he’d met in this industry, and -- and there was no way he was at that level.

Well, it didn’t matter either way. It was just an innocent question.

As they pulled out of the garage, Yuuri finally answered, “Well, I mean… Maybe when I was younger or something I thought about it. I used to listen to stories Minako told me about working with models, and then I discovered you and… Yeah, sure, I thought about it. Just as a kid playing dress-up though, you know?” He shrugged, distracting himself by flipping through radio stations. 

Viktor pulled on some sunglasses, humming. “But that’s exactly how I started out. It’s how all of us start out.”

“Well, I don’t exactly do my one-man runway shows anymore.”

“Oh? Did you forget you trying on my dress already?” 

Yuuri groaned at the memory of their drunken night together. Luckily, there hadn’t been a repeat of that… Yet. Yuuri knew by now though that if Viktor had his way, he might be persuaded to another private show soon. But Yuuri was definitely  _ not  _ going to think about the implications of that. Or how willing he’d be to visit Viktor’s closet again and model more clothes.

They drove down the familiar roads to Viktor’s apartment, the bright summer sun making Alejandro look even more obnoxiously pink and extra. Viktor didn’t bother putting up the car’s roof, and instead turned the radio up a little louder when it landed on a song he liked, and Yuuri had nowhere to hide when Viktor attempted to serenade him with “Come and Get Your Love”. 

Viktor swayed in his seat as he sang, reaching out to Yuuri dramatically.

“You’re ridiculous!” Yuuri tried to yell over the music.

“COME AND GET YOUR LOOOOVE, COME AND GET YOUR LOOOOOVE!”

Oh god people were staring at them funny, although some at the red light started dancing in their seats as well, nodding their head to encourage Viktor to rock on. Even if his singing was godawful. But such things hadn’t stopped Viktor before, and they certainly wouldn’t now as he continued to belt out the lyrics with passion.

And Yuuri? Well, Yuuri eventually stopped trying to sink down in his seat and started to bob his head, and eventually joined Viktor in singing, slowly letting loose. His singing wasn’t that much better, but who cared? That wasn’t the point. The point was yell-singing with Viktor as they drove through the city, both of them smiling, Yuuri’s heart beating faster and faster.

* * *

It turned out that Viktor was 100-percent serious about having a perfected puppy-eyes look. He gave it to Yuuri full-force when he asked after work if he could visit Yuuri’s family’s inn.

Yuuri stared at him, make-up wipe full of glitter from Viktor’s eyeshadow in his hand. “You...actually meant that you wanted to go?”

“Of course, Yuuri! I want to meet your family, and see the inn! I’ve been very curious about it.” He splayed over the sofa in his dressing room, but he sat up to fix Yuuri with a cute, wide-eyed look. He pushed his bottom lip out for maximum effect. Yuuri half-expected him to start making whining sounds, but instead Viktor batted his pretty, long eyelashes.

It wasn’t like Yuuri was going to refuse that much in the first place, but the puppy eyes definitely obliterated the last of his self-control. Viktor Nikiforov was too goddamned powerful.

Thus, after a quick text to Mari letting her know they were coming over, Yuuri and Viktor got ready to head out. Yu-topia Katsuki was on the east side of town just like Minako’s beauty salon, and it didn’t take too long to get there. Yuuri gave the directions as Viktor drove, and he pointed out the familiar tiled roof and gate as they approached.

Viktor’s eyes widened as they passed and looked for a place to park. He nearly jumped out of the car, taking in the traditional Japanese architecture, statues and lanterns with a large smile and eyes full of childlike wonder. 

“Yuuri!” he called. “This is amazing! You would never think a place like this exists in the city! It’s like you brought Japan here with you!”

Yuuri glanced at the inn. His father got to collaborate with the construction team so the presentation was a little more authentic than most places, but there were also hyped-up bits just for any tourists that visited. Still, it was a nice reminder of home in Yuuri’s opinion, of his early years playing on the shores of the island, of looking out his window to see both snow and cherry blossoms fluttering to the ground. He gave a small smile.

“Yeah. It kind of is.”

After letting Viktor have his fill of selfies in front of the gate, Yuuri led them inside and into the front of the building. Viktor was almost as bad as Phichit with having his phone out and taking pictures of everything he saw. Yuuri decided to let him have his fun; it was better than him being bored by the place. 

Out of habit, Yuuri toed his shoes off at the entrance, putting them in a nearby cubby that only his family used. 

“Should I do that?” Viktor pointed to his shoes.

“Ah, no, don’t worry about it. Visitors can wait until they get to their rooms. I used to live here and all, so I kind of just have a habit of it.” 

Viktor hummed, then leaned down to slip out of his pristine leather shoes. He put them in the empty cubby next to Yuuri’s, looking satisfied with himself.

“Viktor, you really should--”

“Don’t worry, Yuuri! I do this at home too, and if this is your home, I want to be polite.”

“Th-this is also a public inn though…”

The door to the closed-off reception area suddenly slid open, ending the conversation as they were greeted with Yuuri’s father’s wide smile. 

“Oh, I thought I heard you, Yuuri!  _ Okaeri _ ~”

Yuuri straightened up, offering his dad a small smile. “Ah, yeah.  _ Tadaima _ .”

“Mari said you visit,” his dad started in his accented English. He folded his arms on the counter and looked at Viktor. “Oh! You bring Vicchan! Mother will be happy.” 

“Vicchan?” Viktor looked both pleased and confused over this nickname. 

Right on cue, Yuuri’s mother appeared down the hall. As soon as she saw Yuuri, and Viktor right behind him, her face brightened up and she dashed over, the robe around her  _ jinbei  _ fluttering behind her. She skidded to a stop right before Yuuri and patted over his cheeks.

“Yuuri,  _ okaeri _ !”

“Hi, Mom.” Yuuri lightly pulled his mother’s hands down and nodded to Viktor. “So, uh, Mom, Dad, I want you to meet someone. This is Viktor Nikiforov, he’s the model I work with at Stammi Vicino.” 

“Call me Toshiya,” Yuuri’s dad said, his grin never falling.

“Hiroko,” Yuuri’s mom said, pointing to herself. She craned her neck to look up at Viktor, eyes wide and sparkling. She was short to begin with, but now she looked almost like a child next to Viktor. “Uwaa, so big!” she exclaimed in delight. “Handsome too~ You chose such a beautiful lover, Yuuri~”

“Mom!” Yuuri should count his blessings; at least she said that last part in Japanese. The last thing he needed was for Viktor to know the weird romantic fantasies Yuuri’s parents had about them being together. He took Viktor by the wrist, and led him further inside. “Uh, I’m going to show Viktor around, if that’s okay.”

“Okay! I make dinner! Vicchan come too!” She waved after them, positively beaming. Yuuri kept leading them down the hall, no particular destination in mind as they made their way between the rows of  _ fusuma _ .

Viktor looked behind them, then back at Yuuri in question. “They seemed to know me already.”

_ Of course they do! You wallpapered my room since I was a teenager. I fought Mari for the remote so I could watch your fashion shows on TV _ . Viktor might know he was a fan, but he didn’t have to know how that he’d been so obsessed with Viktor that even his family knew all about him. “Oh yeah, they, uh -- I mean, I told them about the job when I got it, so of course I mentioned you.” 

“I see.”

Eventually, he thought they were far enough away from his family, and Yuuri thought he should finally act as a proper host. There wasn’t much to see inside, but Viktor seemed to have fun with the interior design, and loved the gardens at the back surrounding little pools of clear water. The sunset was glittering on the surface, giving the gardens a sense of enchantment.

“Back in Japan, my family ran a hot springs inn, one of the last in my hometown,” Yuuri explained. “I think the pools are their way of paying tribute to them. They were a wonderful way to relax. I really miss them sometimes.”

“Is that inn still there?”

“Umm, not anymore, I think. The closing of all the popular resorts and inns was what led my parents to coming to America in the first place. It would’ve been nice to show you a place like that though.” 

Viktor glanced out the window again. When Yuuri looked out, he could almost imagine the steam rolling over the stones and plants, the splash of the healing waters over his body. The springs had been the first thing he missed when he first moved to America. It was like having a secret place or your solace taken away from you. 

When he tore his eyes away, he found Viktor looking at him thoughtfully.

“Maybe we should take a trip back to Japan one day.” 

“We take one every so years.” Before Yuuri could stop himself, he said, “Maybe you can join us next time? It won’t be Tokyo, but… Hasetsu’s nice. The beach is so peaceful. And my parents really like you. I doubt they’d mind.” 

It was meant to sound offhand, like an idea they both knew would never happen. But it came out more thoughtful and heartfelt than Yuuri anticipated, and he could see Viktor was actually thinking it over. But he didn’t need to mull it over long before a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I’d love to.”

Soon they were standing in front of a room near the entrance of the inn; the rooms in this hall all belonged to Yuuri’s family for their personal use for sleeping, living, and dining. The last one was Yuuri’s. His parents and Mari used it sometimes to store miscellaneous things, but other than that, the room was virtually untouched from when he left for college, just in case he ever wanted to visit.

Luckily, Yuuri had taken all of his more personal, embarrassing items like his Viktor collection into his apartment with Phichit. All that really remained now was his bed, still neatly made, a small bookshelf full of his old CDs and PS1/PS2 games and books, and a tiny desk with a dusty lamp on it. Off in the corner were a few boxes and a fan. Yuuri flicked on the light, waiting until Viktor shuffled inside before sliding the door back closed.

“Ah, what an adorable little room~” Viktor started to flitter around, taking in the few possessions still sitting around. He opened up the curtains, letting in some of the evening sun and flopping onto the bed. He snuggled into the nearby pillow. “This is yours, isn’t it, Yuuri?”

“Mhm. Sorry it’s not huge like yours. But at least I can see my floor and don’t have a portal to another dimension.”

“Charm points,” Viktor protested. “They’re charm points.”

Yuuri snorted and joined Viktor on the bed. “Whatever you say. Well, that pretty much completes the tour. Uh, you’re welcome to stay a little longer if you want, though. I don’t know if you heard, but my mom is pretty eager to have you over for dinner.”

“And I’m pretty eager to stay for dinner.” Viktor flipped onto his stomach, giving Yuuri a wink. The gesture used to be embarrassing, but now Yuuri thought it was just cute. Viktor really was a dork. A cute, ridiculous dork. 

Without anything else in particular to say, Yuuri found himself slowly laying down too. For a moment, he realized how surreal it was for his idol to be here in the room he grew up in. But he got over his shock rather quickly, the feeling that welled warmly in his chest more like  _ happiness _ . Yuuri didn’t even realize he was smiling until Viktor glanced at him and quietly laughed a, “What?”

“Nothing.” Yuuri glanced away, but only for a second. Under the overhead light and golden sunbeams, he could trace every feature of Viktor’s face. Yuuri knew this face so well now, even better than before. He knew the light dance of freckles dusting Viktor’s cheeks that he hated covering with foundation, he knew the tiny silver scar on Viktor’s bottom lip that lipstick managed to make invisible, the handsome wrinkle under his eyes... Yuuri knew what this face looked like  _ alive _ . 

And Viktor… He was beautiful. There seemed to be no end to the fascination and obsession Yuuri’s eyes had for gazing upon him. And now… Now he was greedy with this face, wondering what other myriad of expressions he was missing out on. He wanted a lifetime to get to know them all. Would he have that chance? How much longer would he be by Viktor’s side? 

_ No. I’ve already decided. I want Viktor to stay close to me. And I want to stay close to him. I always wanted him, to be the one to see everything inside him, to be the one to hold his face. _

_ And now, he’s here. How can I possibly want to let him go again?  _ If it was for Viktor, then Yuuri wanted to fight for his love with all he had. 

To his surprise, Viktor suddenly turned, sidling closer to Yuuri until his forehead pressed against Yuuri’s shoulder. His eyes appeared to be closed.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Very,” Viktor admitted, voice so quiet that Yuuri thought he might already be asleep. But the single word seemed to carry the weight of many years. Yuuri realized that Viktor was having another moment of vulnerability with him.

_ He trusts me _ . Even at his apartment, Viktor seemed slightly high-strung, even when he was smiling and playing with Makkachin. Yuuri didn’t know if this was a new development, or if this was something that had been building in Viktor for a while. Maybe Viktor himself didn’t know. All that was present now was that he was here, laying in Yuuri’s bed, resting his weight against Yuuri. The itch to hold him became strong again.  _ I want to be here for him _ .

He brought his hand up, resting it against Viktor’s head. He felt over a strand of silken hair between his finger and thumb. “Um… You can rest here, you know. It’s okay to rest sometimes.” 

Viktor hummed, then shuffled lower until he was resting on Yuuri’s stomach. He nuzzled into the softness. “Then here,” he said. “I’m gonna sleep here.” 

Oh geez, he hoped his stomach didn’t make weird noises. “Th-there’s better pillows, Viktor.”

“Mmn, I don’t believe you.” His tone sounded like he was smiling, sweet and gentle. “Yuuri is so soft and warm here. I really like this part of Yuuri.”

A blush lightly burned Yuuri’s cheeks. He tried to ignore it by petting through Viktor’s hair again. 

Quietly, a bit awkwardly, Viktor added, “There’s a lot about Yuuri that I like. Everything, even. I like everything.”

_ Th-thump _ . Yuuri couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard those words. But his head quickly denied the implications, telling him that Viktor’s words didn’t have a deeper meaning to them. The hand-holding, the touching, the time they spent together… There was no deeper meaning to it, even if Yuuri wanted it.

_ Why do you think that so much? _ accused a part of him.  _ You don’t honestly believe that, do you? Even you aren’t this dense. _

Yuuri licked his lips, the silence stretching on.

_ You should tell him. _

“Thanks for bringing me here, Yuuri. I really like this place.”

_ Tell him. _

“Oh. You’re welcome.”

_ It’ll make things awkward between us. It took this long to meet him, to be his friend, for him to trust me and for me to be comfortable around him. It took this long for us to meet halfway. _

_ Just this is fine. As long as he’s by my side at least… What we have now is more than enough. _

Then why was his heart going so crazy right now? Why was his stomach doing gymnastics?

_ Tell him. _

Viktor’s hair glowed in the light, like a halo surrounding him. God, he was beautiful. Was there really a way to have more days like this? Laying together, being comfortable in the silence, content just to know they were by each other’s side, knowing they  _ loved  _ each other?

_ I’m so greedy. Do I really want to steal you from the world just so you’re mine? _

“Th-there’s…”

Viktor perked up ever-so-slightly. Shit, no backing out. Oh god, when was the last time he even confessed to someone? He barely had a template of reference, much less an idea on how he should finish his sentence. His hand froze in Viktor’s hair, and Viktor waited, listening.

“There’s...a lot that I like about you too, Viktor. I like everything about you.” 

_ Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit-- _

Viktor shifted, facing Yuuri. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, gaze flittering over Yuuri’s face like he was searching for something. Whatever he found, he was enamored by it, eyes softening. In one drawn breath, he leaned over, his cologne’s scent raining over Yuuri. A tempting view of his collarbone and then the intense blue of his eyes all Yuuri could see before Viktor’s breath was over his mouth, their lips mere centimeters apart. Yuuri’s hands flew up, grabbing Viktor’s shoulders, but he remained undecided on pulling him closer or pushing him away.

They froze, eyes half-lidded. The tension was so strong but neither of them broke it. He was right there, Viktor was  _ right there _ \--

Oh.

If Yuuri wanted to, all he had to do was raise his head and...

Then, Viktor exhaled, soft and shuddering against Yuuri’s lips like he wanted to laugh. It didn’t match the frustrated look it his eyes. Yuuri tried to think of how to bring that sparkle back, but the spell was already broken. 

“Viktor...,” he murmured.

Viktor let out another lost breath, then pressed a kiss softly against the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

“This is hard,” he muttered. “I don’t know what to do. Normally, I know  _ exactly  _ what to do, but then… I feel like my world got turned on its head.”

Yuuri had no idea what he was talking about. At the same time, the words were something he understood well. There was that vulnerable look in Viktor’s eyes again, and Yuuri was sure that he must’ve been mirroring it.

“That’s fine,” he replied, voice quiet. “I never know what I’m doing either. But I’m here, with you, so… I must be doing something right.” 

Viktor huffed out a dry laugh. “ _ Da _ . Can’t argue that.” He leaned towards Yuuri again, this time brushing back Yuuri’s bangs to press a tender kiss to his forehead. The audible  _ smack  _ was so sweet, so tantalizing. 

Why couldn’t his heart calm down? Why was he holding his breath trying to calm down the horrible shivers that threatened to quake his body?

“C-can I…” 

“Hm?”

Yuuri’s arms inched forward, holding Viktor close, his silver hair tickling against Yuuri’s neck and collar. His body warmed up, feeling wonderfully full by embracing Viktor like this again. It was like puzzle pieces coming perfectly together. Bit by bit, Yuuri could feel his tremors calm down, his muscles relaxing against Viktor’s warmth. 

Just like during that sunset in the car, Yuuri was sure that Viktor could feel his heartbeat. It was right against his ear, and Yuuri hoped Viktor could understand everything it was trying to say to him. He hoped these feelings were something that Viktor could understand and accept. There was so much that Yuuri couldn’t get himself to say, out of his inexperience with intimacy and people, out of fear what others would think, and both these things made him doubt himself.

He thought back to how he felt when he was with Viktor in the dressing room, when he was painting his face, when they laughed over coffee and took pictures together. Those were the times Yuuri felt most confident, most at-home with their feelings. Those times were the only times Yuuri thought he might’ve actually said it. It was the only way he knew how. He just hoped that for once, he could meet Viktor halfway and  _ let him know  _ without a single doubt--

_ I love you _ .

The door to his room slid open, the familiar smell of cigarette wafted in the room. 

“Oh  _ geez _ , Yuuri, lock your door next time.”

“Mari!” Yuuri shot up, and Viktor was forced to roll onto his lap with a small “ _ oof _ !” He met his sister’s grimace with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t  _ have  _ to lock my door, you should knock!”

Mari pointedly felt over the paper of the  _ fusuma  _ and raised a brow at him. “Yeaaah. Okay.” In Japanese, she continued, “Once you’re done making out, come over for dinner. Mom already set a place for Viktor too.” She shut the door, and her shadow disappeared down the hallway. 

Dear god, everyone really was going to think he was together with Viktor and now  _ screwing  _ him when he thought no one was looking. He’d have to straighten that misunderstanding out right away before Mari said unnecessary things to their parents. 

Viktor was still laying across Yuuri’s thighs, staring up like an overturned dog that was questioning why the belly rubs stopped. 

“Uh… Dinner’s ready.” 

“Oh. I see.” Viktor sat up, waiting until Yuuri got off the bed before getting to his feet as well. The air was awkward between them, with Viktor looking everywhere but Yuuri. Suddenly, the last three minutes didn’t even seem real. What had Yuuri been doing? What had he been thinking? What had Viktor been thinking?

“ _There’s a lot about Yuuri that I like_.” Yuuri hunched his shoulders, trying and failing to stave off the realization that he’d been a mere breath away from _kissing Viktor_. It wouldn’t have been the same playful ones Viktor always bestowed to his forehead and cheeks, something maybe friends did to mess with each other. It wouldn’t have been light; Yuuri knew from the tension in the air that the kiss would’ve been heavy, carrying with it so many unsaid feelings. 

The soft feel of Viktor’s lips against his skin, the tenderness in the gesture… That was  _ definitely  _ not something Yuuri had just imagined.

He glanced over at Viktor as they walked down the hallway, recalling the feel of his warmth and solidness of his body above him. It had been something Yuuri had only thought about in fleeting teenaged fantasies, and now he knew those imaginings couldn’t give any justice to the real deal. Years of pining and admiring Viktor from afar couldn’t compare to the burning desire Yuuri felt in that moment of them being pressed together, a thread away from their almost-kiss.

Oh. Could it really be that… Maybe Viktor wanted him too? In that moment, had he really wanted to kiss Yuuri? Yuuri wished he could rewind time and find out. 

_ What would’ve happened if I had just reached up and met him halfway?   _

Viktor pulled out his phone. “Oh. I got a text from Chris.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuuri latched onto the distraction.

“He’s reminding me about the next face-off we have soon.” After a moment of pressing his phone thoughtfully against his cheek, Viktor turned to Yuuri with a grin. “Should we taunt him a bit? Tell him that Viktuuri is gonna be back better than ever?”

Viktuuri? Oh god, that was right, Yuuri’s family wasn’t the only one who thought that they were together. They’d never actually cleared up that lovers misunderstanding to Chris and JJ. Speaking of which, when the hell had Viktor come up with their couple mash-up name? It sounded weird, but... appropriate. 

Another competition between brands. The last one hadn’t gone so well, and ended with Yuuri convinced that he didn’t belong in Stammi Vicino. What if this time ended up the same?

No. He knew better. Viktor believed in him, always had, even when Yuuri walked out. And Yuuri had grown. He’d come to learn a lot about himself and Viktor and the fashion world. The prospect of another competition was simultaneously nerve-wracking and appealing to Yuuri. It was actually kind of exciting. He remembered the rush of wanting to fight for his and Viktor’s brand and love, and he wanted a second chance at proving that theirs was the best.

This time, they would come out on top.

“Our name is literally victory. We’ve got this.” Yuuri grinned, bumping his shoulder against Viktor’s. 

Viktor beamed at his answer, and immediately typed out a text of challenge that he showed to Yuuri.

 

_ >Catch us if you can, Chris. Viktuuri is going for gold. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH PINING AND SLOW BURN I promise we'll be getting somewhere with this, I just had to lay more framework. Thanks everyone for tuning in! I'm already working on chapter 11, but I probably won't dish it out until after AnimeFest (if anyone is going, you'll see me as one of the many pair skate!Yuuri cosplayers, I'm sure lol). 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter for updates on updates lol: @RenOnIceCream
> 
> Edit: YELLS it's been so long that I nearly forgot to include a link to @spicyshrimps' [gorgeous Viktor art](https://twitter.com/spicyshrimps/status/876909918682361856)! I'm glad there's such love for Viktor covered in kiss marks, hehe. Thank you spicyshrimps!


	11. it's all i need to say, it's all i need to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooner or later, updates will happen...!! Good news, everyone! Since last chapter, I've started slowly moving into my new apartment with one of my friends AND I have secured a new job! DON'T LET YOUR DREAMS BE DREAMS KIDS, YOU CAN DO THE THING, EVEN IF IT TAKES A YEAR OR TEN YEARS!! Anyway, I'm. Super ecstatic and nervous and just. SUPER-CHARGED!!!
> 
> Here's the next chapter. A lot happens!! I hope y'all enjoy it. HUGE THANKS to my badass beta Kaden for helping me through with this story again!! You are the Yuuri that makes everything glittery and fabulous! <333
> 
> Chapter title this time comes from "I'll Be Around" by Empire of the Sun

By the time Yuuri threw away the last make-up wipe and closed his cosmetics case, Viktor was already out of his latest outfit and re-dressed in his street clothes -- if you could call them that, anyway. Yuuri knew despite the plain look of the jeans and V-neck shirt, Viktor’s ensemble was nothing less than luxurious in price. Either way, he looked hot, and Yuuri tried not to get distracted by the snug fit of the jeans.

“Ready to go?” Yuuri asked.  

“Actually, I need to catch up with Seung Gil and speak with him,” Viktor said, running adjusting his fringe in front of the mirror.

That was normal enough. Sometimes a few days before shows, Viktor met up with Seung Gil and went over the designs of the outfits again to make sure everything would wrap and drape around Viktor’s body perfectly -- though this was due to Seung Gil’s own meticulousness rather than anything Viktor had an opinion in. Lately, Yuuri had seen Viktor go off with Seung Gil more and more, so he surmised it all had to do with the approaching September Fashion Week. 

“Oh, I see.” Yuuri shrugged. “I can wait for you in here then.”

“No, please, don’t wait up.” Viktor moved in a distracted manner, now scrolling through his phone, and pacing back and forth. 

Yuuri stared at him, tilting his head in question. Even when Viktor had a lot on his plate, he rarely displayed such agitation. Not that he looked  _ angry _ , but there was clearly something on his mind that was making him rather -- energetic. What on earth was making Viktor Nikiforov this way? Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat in worry. Was Viktor having insecurities again, maybe because of the show with Intoxicated and LE ROY?  _ No, this seems different…  _ Was he excited? It was hard to pin down when Yuuri had never seen him like this, and he started to grow concerned.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind it.”

Viktor stopped moving and gave Yuuri a smile. “You’re so sweet,  _ zvyozdochka _ , but I’d feel terrible to make you wait. I don’t know how long--” 

At that moment, Seung Gil passed outside the dressing room, and Viktor perked up. He followed after Seung Gil like a little kid, and Yuuri curiously trailed along to see what the two would be up to. Maybe it would benefit him to watch more how a designer worked. Mid-way down the hall though, Viktor spun around, tossing over the keys he’d pulled out from his pocket. 

“Here. You can use Alejandro to get home. I honestly don’t know how long this will take, so I’ll just get Seung Gil to take me back.”

Yuuri fumbled and just managed to catch the keys by the poodle keychain. Seung Gil kept on walking as if he couldn’t hear any of this or was even aware that he was being trailed, and it made Yuuri wonder just how well that car ride would go later.

“Viktor…” He held up the keys. “It’s not that I don’t want to drive your obnoxiously pink car. But I  _ really  _ don’t want to drive your obnoxiously pink car.”

Viktor waved at him, walking away with a large smile. “Remember to pick me up tomorrow morning~! Drive responsibly, he’s expensive!” 

_ Are you seriously the one giving out that advice!?  _

Without further ado, the unlikely duo had disappeared down the next hallway. With a defeated breath, Yuuri stared down at the keys in his hand. Well. That just happened. Even if he couldn’t parse exactly  _ what  _ happened. He probably shouldn’t question these kinds of things when they concerned Viktor; he had nothing to worry about. Nothing.

“Might as well go home,” he muttered with a shrug. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to being seen in the Cadillac, or having  _ Phichit  _ see him arrive home in it, but there was nothing else to do. Anyway, the thought of picking Viktor up first thing in the morning was rather appealing though; it’d been awhile since he’d seen those adorable sleepy eyes and bedhead. Though he supposed Viktor would be perfectly coiffed by the time he got there. Yuuri probably wouldn’t be able to see a morning Viktor again unless he slept over. Maybe...he should ask...

When he gathered his things and left for the elevator lobby, he was surprised to see Yuri standing there, his perfectly straight back turned to Yuuri. His hood was over this head as usual, hands stuffed in his pockets and boots scuffing against the pristine floor.

“Oh, it’s Yurio!”

Yuri immediately bristled, and he turned to shoot Yuuri a glare. “God, it’s  _ you _ . I already told Viktor that I’m not answering to that shit name! So don’t you dare try to make it catch on, pig, I was the first Yuri here!”

“It has a certain charm to it though.” Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. Over the past few months, he’d started building up an immunity to Yuri’s temper and blunt words, especially after getting to know him and seeing that he was this way with everyone. Yuuri didn’t have a younger sibling, but being with Yuri felt close enough to having a raging, strangely-adorable-but-highly-annoying little brother. 

“Want a ride home?” he asked conversationally. “Viktor gave me his keys.”

Yuri’s jaw set in disgust. “And be seen in his stupid Pepto Bismol monstrosity? Hell. No.”

“It’d be better than riding with Yakov and Lilia though, wouldn’t it?” Yuuri heard from Mila how the two were once married, and while they seemed to get along professionally, Yuuri couldn’t imagine sitting between them as anything less than awkward.

The elevator arrived with a dainty ring, and the doors opened. Yuri groaned as he stepped in alongside Yuuri, apparently thinking the same thing as him. “Ugh, okay,  _ fine _ ! But you better be a better driver than the old man!”

Yuuri tried and failed to hold in his laugh, promising no speed tickets and illegal turns.

After Yuri sent a text to Yakov once they reached the garage, the two were off, an unlikely pair trapped inside Viktor’s expensive pink car. Yuri was quick to control the music, settling on the local rock station, and got comfortable by hanging his boots outside the window. 

Yuuri gave him a side glance. “If you get scratches on this, Viktor’s not going to appreciate it.”

“Viktor stomps his heels on everything! He’ll live.” Despite the protest, Yuri put his feet down half a song later. 

Yuri lived on the north side of town, which came as no surprise to Yuuri. Tons of pristine neighborhoods, expensive shopping centers, and fancy boutiques framed the streets. Some were local brands that Yuuri recognized, and some were more commercial that he could recall the models, including Yuri, having done work for on a few occasions. The clothes inside were utterly gorgeous though. Maybe Viktor would be up for strolling through here sometime if Yuuri asked. Even with his new salary, Yuuri was hesitant to drop hundreds on an outfit, but he’d like to have a nice outing with Viktor sometime.

Before he could daydream too much about non-existent dates, a certain shop caught Yuuri’s eye as they drove by it. Its interior was full of darker, mature tones, which made it stand out amongst all the pastels and whites of the neighboring boutiques. Above, its sign plainly read in silver, “alma”. 

“Oh, Yurio! That’s the brand you like, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” Yuri rose from his seat a bit to look back, lowering his sunglasses. “Oh, yeah it is.”

“Do you go by often and visit the designer?”

Yuri sank back down in his seat. At the red light, Yuuri had a chance to glance over as see how Yuri’s cheeks grew a bright pink. “I stop by sometimes,” he answered vaguely with a shrug. “I’m...still just breaking out in my modeling career though. I’d rather not face him directly until I have something to show for myself.”

That caught Yuuri by surprise. He knew Yuri had a dream to work with alma, and in order to do it he wanted to be a known model, but he didn’t realize Yuri was so prideful as to not even initiate a bond between him and alma first. Not that Yuuri could talk, he could barely make eye-contact with Viktor at first because he was so convinced that he was too inexperienced to be in front of him. He supposed that was just how people were in front of their idols.

“Ew, god, don’t compare me to  _ you _ ,” Yuri spat. “I’m not some drooling fanboy.” 

Whoops, how much of that had he said out loud?

Relentless, Yuri ranted on, “You make mistakes all the damn time, and you get too emotional. I’m nothing like you.”

If Yuuri really wanted to argue, he’d bring up the scoldings he’d seen Lilia give Yuri on multiple occasions during training. That wasn’t what was bothering him the most about Yuri’s statements though. “I must be doing something right, since I’m still here,” he replied with unexpected conviction, almost like a challenge.

The light turned green, and the drive went on with a stunned silence. But Yuri, catching Yuuri’s tone, was quick to recover and scoff, “Only because Viktor is head-up-his-ass in love with you.”

Yuuri gripped the steering wheel tightly.  _ Calm down, he’s just a teenager _ . Yuri could complain to high heaven about what a wreck Yuuri was, but he was in Stammi Vicino because he was  _ good  _ at what he did and by his own efforts. Yuuri had confidence in his work, and he had support that built that confidence, and that was no small thing; in this industry, it was everything. 

That was why Yuuri came back, because he had his own volition to do so, and he loved SV. And he knew that Yuri knew it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have welcomed Yuuri back in the first place. 

“I don’t know what exactly you think about me, since you never say what you actually mean,” he started, “but we might be more alike than you think. Maybe sometimes I have setbacks, but even I had goals when I first came. And I admire you for yours, Yurio. I think you can definitely make it big as a model, maybe even as big as Viktor if you apply yourself, and work with alma. You’ve got things to fight through, and so do I. If Viktor is there to see me through it,” he shrugged, “then that’s not something I’m ashamed to have. This industry is incredibly hard, and I’ve seen what it can do to people; the fire you need can quickly burn you out. Support isn’t bad to have, not when you have dreams so big you can’t do it alone. So no matter what you say about me,” he looked over at Yuri, “I support you, Yurio.”

They came to rows of surprisingly humble houses. The lawns and porches were all neatly kept, but homey with gardens and children’s toys. Yuuri parked Alejandro in front of the address Yuri had given him. The car already parked there was rusted, and the oldest one on the street.

Yuri nearly kicked his door open, then closed, and Yuuri frowned at the resulting slam. He watched as Yuri circled around, sunglasses hiding the expression of his eyes. Right in front of Yuuri’s door though, he stopped, then spun around, his hair whipping over his shoulders.

“You make mistakes all the damn time,” he repeated loudly, “and you get too damn emotional. You didn’t let me finish though.”

Yuuri crossed his arms over the steering wheel, waiting and curious.

Yuri pointed a finger at him like he was issuing a challenge. “I want to see you make no mistakes! Your hands shake sometimes, but even an inexperienced model like me can tell the difference between good and bad artistry. And yours is -- interesting. E-exciting.” His voice got quiet, but he quickly puffed out his chest. “You’re just a pig, but-! If that old man sees something in you, as a make-up artist or whatever the fuck else… I guess I get it.”

“Yurio…”

Yuri scowled at the ground, grinding the tip of his boot into the grass. “I don’t want to know what the hell you guys are, but… Because of my mother, I’ve known about Viktor since I was a kid. He’s always been the dominant presence in the modeling world. All eyes have been on him, and he never failed to surprise people. When you’re a model, you try to make it so no one can look away from you. As soon as you do, you’re as good as dead in this industry. That’s why it’s obvious when you look at his recent shoots that something changed.” Yuri gazed off in the distance. 

“You mean his age? But he’s not even--”

Yuri shook his head. “ _ Nyet _ . It’s something else. Something you did. So don’t kill yourself worrying about anyone burning out. You’ve got enough fire to set shit ablaze.”

Something in Yuuri found himself incredibly moved by the words. “Just like you, right?”

Yuri coughed, his whole face growing dark pink. “Fucking exactly! But I’m not losing to you. So!!! Don’t disappoint me, you got it!? Now get the hell out of here, that Barbie mobile is blinding me, ugh.” Yuri waved his hand impatiently before stalking off to the gate of his house. A fluffy cat was sitting on the porch swing and meowed loudly at him when he passed. 

Yuuri watched him turn around and pick up the cat, and waited until Yuri had disappeared inside before starting the car up and heading back to his own apartment. As he rolled back onto the street, he let out a tiny laugh. 

“What the heck was that? You’re full of contradictions, Yurio.” That was why no one ever understood what he really meant, even while most of his words were sincere, and they came from an earnest place.

_ “It’s something else. Something you did.” _

Yuuri looked thoughtfully out at the sunset spilled over the sky. The next face-off with Intoxicated and LE ROY would be in three short days. It didn’t leave Yuuri much time, but he wasn’t going to slack off now. Not after that speech from Yuri. 

Yuuri was going to make sure that he and Viktor dazzled the whole world.

* * *

The night before Viktor would face Chris and JJ again on the runway, Yuuri couldn’t sleep. He’d always been a bit of a night-owl and workaholic; it kept his head busy, and it felt nice to be productive.

Tonight, he was still hard at work after another day at Stammi Vicino, curled up with his laptop on the dining room table, his case of make-up and a round mirror on a stand next to him. At the moment, he was going through some of the files Seung Gil had sent him earlier, all pictures of the ensembles Viktor would be wearing at the runway show. Yuuri stared at them, having some flashes of ideas for Viktor’s cosmetics, but none of them felt right. They were good ideas, but they weren’t  _ enough _ .

Yuuri pushed his laptop back and got out some containers of eyeshadow and lip lacquer, arranging and re-arranging their colors, and comparing what would look best with the outfit and how he’d brush these onto Viktor. Viktor might be beautiful, with a face that could complement anything, but it didn’t mean Yuuri wanted to slack off on his job. He wanted this unofficial competition with Intoxicated and LE ROY to go better than last time. This time, he really wanted to show what he was made of.

He rolled his lips between his teeth, then got his laptop again to open up a secret folder of his. In it were rows and rows of Viktor’s image. Most of them were saved from his Instagram and Facebook. Recently though, Yuuri started a new collection based on his previous work with painting Viktor’s face, all courtesy of being sent by Viktor himself after taking selfies. It gave Yuuri a good basis to learn from previous work and get inspired by what colors and patterns already worked well on Viktor.

Yuri had claimed that something in Viktor had changed after Yuuri entered the picture. Ever since he was first introduced to Viktor through Minako and Yuuko, Yuuri had never taken his eyes off of him, so he knew what Yuri was talking about. Being his make-up artist now, Yuuri paid more attention than ever to the details of Viktor’s photoshoots. And for the most part, everything was the same, his handsome, sharp features, his inviting lips, his bewitching eyes…

But something in the faint smile, in how relaxed and open his poses were, in the charming dimples around his shining eyes, all made him seem...younger, somehow. Not in the sense of age, but that there was a distinct freedom visible in him not unlike a carefree youth. Full of vibrance. It reminded Yuuri a little of how Viktor looked when he was about to say something he knew would make Yuuri laugh.

_ Was that really something I did? _

A smile tugged on his lips. In several photos, Viktor was winking, or blowing a kiss, or both. Yuuri sank in his chair a bit, his insides turning to sappy mush. 

He really did have a lot of pictures of Viktor, and his collection was only growing. Yuuri himself was in a lot of them too, smiling right at Viktor’s side.  _ Maybe I should get those frame collections like Phichit has… _ Yuuri lost himself in his musings, clicking through the pictures.

“Working hard? Or hardly working?” Phichit poked out of his room, his hair slightly disheveled as he smiled sleepily.

Realizing his laptop was in Phichit’s line of sight, Yuuri quickly minimized the window of Viktor’s pictures, clearing his throat. “Working. Definitely working.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, what are you still doing up? It’s past midnight, Yuuri. Don’t you have a big day tomorrow?”

“Today, technically, yeah,” Yuuri said, running a hand through his hair.

Phichit nodded, heading to the kitchen. “I was just gonna get some water, but… Maybe some tea for you? It’ll relax you.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Phichit started shuffling through their cabinets and bringing out mugs for the two of them, along with the tea and a pot to boil water. In less than five minutes, they each had a steaming mug of chamomile tea in front of them. Between Phichit’s mother and Yuuri’s own love for tea, the two stocked up on quite a bit of it. 

They let out contented sighs at the drink warming their bodies. Phichit was right, Yuuri was already starting to feel relaxed. He actually hadn’t realized how tense his body had been getting. 

Phichit noticed. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

“Actually, I feel a lot better compared to last time. Definitely no need for a sip of wine.”

“Great!” Phichit grinned. “Because you’re the best make-up artist in the whole industry!”

“Maybe not that, but… I mean, I am working with Viktor, so… I just want to make sure I bring out my best at the show.” Yuuri sipped at his tea, continuing to compare photos of his work and shots of the outfits. 

“You really do sound more confident than the last time. I’m happy for you, Yuuri. Does that mean you finally got comfortable being in Stammi Vicino and working with Viktor?”

“Err… To be honest, it still doesn’t feel real sometimes.” A soft smile tugged at Yuuri’s lips. “But, you know, then I see Viktor and it all rushes back to me, how happy I am to be with him all the time, to be in that building and among all these talented people. I don’t think I ever thanked you for opening that door up for me.”

Phichit beamed. “Hey, I just mentioned you. You and your own artistry did the rest.” He gave Yuuri a meaningful look. “I just knew you had something special, you know.”

“Yeah. You always did. Minako and Yuuko would say the same.”  _ Viktor too _ . Hell, even Yuri now. Yuuri didn’t realize just how much everyone had believed in him before. Even if he heard the praise he was given, and even when he thought his work was actually pretty good, he had a hard time considering himself anything special. That was how Yuuri always had been though, never thinking he was anything more than he appeared, and way more invested in making other people shine. 

But everyone had continued to see him, and see his talent. 

For a while now, Yuuri had been thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be seen. At least, not when it meant Viktor’s eyes would be on him, full of faith in Yuuri, and love. 

_ Love… _

“That’s a dangerous look on your face, Yuuri. You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.”

“Ah. My bad. Just overthinking things again.” 

“About the show? Or…” Phichit looked at Yuuri meaningfully with raised eyebrows.

Yuuri grinned a little under his friend’s interrogating stare. “You get  _ one  _ guess.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Phichit made a show of sighing, cupping his jaw. “Are you really not planning on confessing and asking poor Viktor out on a date? It’s been weeks -- months! This pining is  _ torture _ .” He collapsed on the table, throwing his arms out.

“Why do you sound more devastated than  _ I _ do?” Yuuri shoved at Phichit’s leg under the table. 

“Because I’m the number one audience member to the Viktuuri show.”

Yuuri scrunched his nose. “Okay, when you say it, it just sounds embarrassing.” 

Phichit stuck out his tongue. “I know that it’s nerve-wracking to confess, but honestly I would bet my most expensive camera that Viktor is completely into you.”

The thing was, Yuuri was pretty sure that Phichit would win that bet. Yuuri sank down in his seat a bit, then maximized the window with Viktor’s photos again. He had no idea what he was going to do. He mostly wanted to keep putting confessing his feelings off because how he and Viktor were now was fine enough. Being friends, being colleagues -- Yuuri could live with that; it was a lot more than he dared hope for a few months back.

Except that wasn’t true. Not anymore. Yuuri hadn’t stopped thinking about almost kissing Viktor since it happened. At night, he could only keep replaying the memory, and try to imagine what would have happened if Yuuri had just pulled Viktor in and kissed him. During the day, he stared at Viktor and wondered if he thought about the same things, and if he still wanted to kiss Yuuri.

_ Why didn’t you in the first place? I wanted you to. _

Yuuri let out a deep breath. “I have so much I want to say to him… So much I want to convey…”

Phichit’s expression became more sympathetic. He reached over, tousling Yuuri’s hair. “And you don’t gotta say it all at once. You’ll have years and years to say how much he means to you. But you’re putting the cart before the horse; build your relationship one thing at a time. You’ve gotta get started somehow if you ever want him to know how you feel, and for you to hear how he feels about you.”

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, staring into his mug of tea. He knew Phichit was right; Yuuri’s head loved to cram everything in at once, and that was what made things so overwhelming, when what he really needed to do was take things one step at a time. Once again, his voice of reason in the form of his best friend untangled Yuuri’s thoughts. Phichit really was an incredible friend, in so many ways. Even if he was still apprehensive, the last thing Yuuri wanted to do was spit in the face of Phichit’s advice.

Things would make more sense in the morning.

“Thanks, Phichit.” Yuuri stretched, yawning loudly. 

Phichit smiled. “It’s what I’m here for~ Now come on, let’s hit the hay already.”

When Yuuri finally flopped onto his bed, it was nearly two in the morning. He took a deep breath, sinking into the mattress. He hadn’t realized how tired he’d been, and he’d definitely pay for it in the morning with a doubleshot. 

His phone chimed, and he blindly groped around for it next to his pillow, then squinted at the screen.

 

**From: ✨ Viktor ✨**

_ you’re probably asleep now, but i’m really excited about tomorrow _

_ I can’t wait to do this show with you yuuri ❤  °˖✧◝(⁰♡ ⁰)◜✧˖° _

 

Yuuri gave a tired smile. Viktor sounded like a little kid who couldn’t sleep because he was anticipating the trip to DisneyWorld in the morning.

 

_ >im awake just barely tho _

_ >im excited too.  _

_ >but we should get some slepp now viktor _

 

**From: ✨ Viktor ✨**

_ Slepp, LOL! you’re so tireddd _

_ Goodnight yuuri  _ _ ♥ _ _ ⌒ヽ(´ ❥ `) _

 

_ >goodnight ❤ _

 

Yuuri didn’t have time to think too much about this exchange before falling asleep right there, phone in hand and sleepy smile on his face, imagining what it would be like to curl up under the blankets with Viktor’s warmth beside him.

* * *

Somehow, Yuuri managed to not be nervous throughout the whole car ride to the ballroom where the runway show would take place. He kept up conversation with Mila and Viktor, and texted Phichit every so often, who sent him tons of encouragement -- even if some of them weren’t about the show.

 

**From: Phichit**   
_ Also!!! don’t forget to confess your undying love to the man sitting next to you! You’ve got this, Yuuri!!!!! _

 

Ignoring the multitude of flexing arm emojis that followed, Yuuri quickly locked his phone before Viktor could glance over. How did Phichit know Viktor was beside him in the first place? Either Yuuri was very predictable or he’d have to talk to Phichit about his possible psychic abilities. 

His phone lit up.

 

**From: Phichit**   
_ Don’t ask how I know these things, im your best friend for a reason _

 

“Oh, you’re texting Phichit too?”

Yuuri turned to Viktor with wide eyes. “Wait --  _ ‘too’ _ ? Why are you texting Phichit  _ too _ ?”

The corners of Viktor’s eyes crinkled with mirth. “I’ve had his number since the beginning. That’s how I knew where you worked, remember?”

“Actually, I forgot. But thanks for reminding me to have an extended conversation with him later.” Even as Yuuri said it, he was smiling a bit. Yet another favor that Yuuri hadn’t quite thanked Phichit for, even if he hadn’t thought it as a good thing back then. He nodded to Viktor’s phone. “So what do you guys talk about?”

“Oh, I tip him off to gigs every once in awhile, since Celestino trusts him on his own now. Sometimes he cheers me on before a show. He says he knows about them because you tell him.” Viktor raised a brow, playfully nudging against Yuuri’s arm. “Yuuuuri, you talk about me?”

_ Only since I was twelve _ . He laughed, lightly shoving Viktor away. “Sometimes.” 

“All good things, I hope?”

“Well, I hope you and Phichit say good things about me when you’re all texting.” God knew the two of them had enough fodder to turn embarrassing Yuuri stories for hours. 

Viktor booped Yuuri’s nose with a reassuring, “Only the best things.”

Suddenly, Mila leaned over her seat to excitedly show Viktor something on her phone, cutting their conversation short. Yakov yelled for her to sit back down as her arm reached in front of his face.

They arrived at the opulent ballroom in one piece, but it looked like Intoxicated and LE ROY had already arrived -- Yuuri recognized Chris’ agent having conversation with their designer, and JJ was at the center of the room, boisterously laughing with Isabella by his side. The reception area everyone was waiting in was filled with chatter and liveliness. Mila and Sara broke away from the group to meet with a gathering of several female Intoxicated models. Like before, Seung Gil immediately left the area without a word to head for the dressing rooms, presumably to get the outfits ready. Over at one side of the room, Masumi spotted them and waved.

“Oh, what’s this? Viktor, you’re usually so  _ good  _ about coming early.” Chris greeted them with a sly grin, appraising them both with a seductive stare. Even when he was just standing, Chris held himself like he expected cameras to suddenly pop out -- his hip cocked out just so, and his thumb was languidly rubbing against his bottom lip. As handsome as Masumi was, he was totally outclassed by his model boyfriend even in a relaxed setting -- something Yuuri could sympathize with, at any rate.

_ Except Viktor’s not your boyfriend _ . Yuuri gave the Intoxicated pair a once-over, then exchanged smiles with Viktor.  _ Doesn’t matter. I have to stay focused. We’re not losing to them or JJ today _ .

After a few moments of chatting and throwing some banter with Chris and Masumi, Yakov started gathering up everyone from Stammi Vicino. The show would be starting in a little over an hour, and guests were already taking their seats. JJ and Isabella too were making their way to the dressing rooms, and JJ shot them a wide grin when they walked by. 

“Today marks another competition between our brands, gentlemen. Like last time, we’re fighting with love! Considering how things went last time, I won’t blame you for being intimidated already! There’s only one king on this runway!”

Viktor and Chris exchanged looks of challenge, failing to hide how ready they were to put those bold words to the test. 

“We’ll see,” Viktor said, turning on a blindingly polite smile. “There’s only one legend among us, after all. It only follows that my and Yuuri’s love is just as legendary.” His arm slid around Yuuri’s waist and pressed their hips flush together. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Viktor.” Chris curled his hand provocatively around Masumi’s tie, bringing his lover close enough to tease a kiss. “We underestimated you last time, Mister Jean-Jacques, but that luck of yours runs out now,” Chris promised with a saccharine laugh. 

“HA! LE ROY never needed luck. It’s not my  _ style _ , you see.” JJ gave a mighty laugh then turned away, arm around Isabella’s shoulders.

Both Viktor and Chris heaved a sigh as JJ left, but judging by the gleam in their eyes, they were far from throwing in the towel. 

“Well, well, I haven’t been this motivated for a show in quite awhile. Don’t disappoint me, Viktor.” Chris winked at Viktor, then blew Yuuri a kiss before walking away with Masumi close in tow.

“He’ll be rather disappointed either way,” Viktor said, smiling. He squeezed Yuuri’s hip. “Come on, Yuuri.”

They met Seung Gil in the dressing room, who immediately told Viktor to start undressing and put on his first outfit. Yuuri barely had time to close the door before Viktor was already stripping to his panties. On the vanity, Yuuri’s case was set up, and he got to work setting up the cosmetics he’d finally decided on late last night.

“Looks like no emergency adjustments need to be made. Good.” Seung Gil smoothed the shirt over Viktor’s arms and chest, pinching at places to make sure not a thread was out of place. Apparently satisfied, he straightened up. “Take over things, Yuuri.” He left the room without another word.

It was business as usual. Yuuri started with uncapping tubes and compacts, and Viktor primly sat down in front of the mirror, thighs crossed. When he turned back around, Viktor greeted him with an encouraging smile.

“Alright, ready?”

“Ready since yesterday,” Viktor confessed with a short laugh. “This is my favorite part, you know.”

Yuuri lightly tipped Viktor’s face up to angle him towards the light. “Mmn,” he hummed. “It’s mine too. I mean, I guess it’s my  _ only  _ part, but, uh, that means there’s no competition at least.”

“Good. I want you all to myself.” Viktor looked pleased as he closed his eyes and let Yuuri get to work. The outfit was light and spilled in waves of glamourous pinks. It fit Viktor’s fair complexion and bright shade of blue in his eyes. It wasn’t too hard to decide on the slightly darker shade of French pink for Viktor’s make-up to balance the hue of his whole ensemble. 

After months of working with Viktor, Yuuri’s hands moved on instinct. It felt natural, comfortable, between them. He didn’t shake anymore. There was no need to when Viktor trusted him, and when Yuuri could finally trust himself too. This moment of naturalness was what Yuuri had wished for so often before coming to Stammi Vicino. 

When he was done with Viktor’s eyeshadow and gently brushing on mascara, Viktor opened his eyes, peering at Yuuri curiously.

“You know, Lilia has been talking to me about you. It seems like you’ve caught her attention with your work, and other make-up artists have been asking her about you as well.”

“Oh?” Yuuri’s back stiffened. He couldn’t help but remember that the last time people had talked about him, it was on the internet after that disastrous interview.

Viktor caught on to his tension and shook his head. “Oh no, it was all good things,  _ zvyozdochka _ ! You’ve earned yourself some admirers, it sounds like. Models all around the state are wondering if you could work for them just once.” He smiled playfully at Yuuri. “If you ask me, it doesn’t seem like I don’t have any competition after all.”

“Not true,” Yuuri said meaningfully. He tipped Viktor’s face back, lightly brushing dark-pink creme at the outermost corner of his eye in the shape of a heart. “I can’t imagine doing this to any model -- anyone in general -- except for you.”  _ You’re the inspiration behind my craft, after all _ . 

Viktor positively preened at the words, and the glow of his face had nothing to do with the highlighter Yuuri had given him. “You’ll stay with me then? I should feel bad for stealing you away from other models, but I don’t.”

“Good. Because I don’t feel bad for stealing you either.” Yuuri caught Viktor’s surprised eye, then pulled away.  _ Thaaat was embarrassing to say, oh god _ . Not that Yuuri could have stopped it if he tried. It was getting increasingly easy for him to say these things to Viktor, and he didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. Judging by the delighted sparkle of Viktor’s eyes and his winning smile, he was going to go with  _ good _ .

After putting the last tube of lipstick down, Yuuri glanced at Viktor and made sure not a single thing was out of place. But Viktor looked perfect. From head to toe he was soft but sensual, divine and ethereal, he was love incarnate, and Yuuri wanted to kiss him. He’d meticulously placed heart-shaped confetti on Viktor’s lips, and it made his mouth even more enticing. 

Instead of indulging in more fantasies though, Yuuri cleared his throat and stepped aside to let Viktor gaze at his reflection. 

“Wow, Yuuri… I love it!” He grinned, tentatively touching one of the hearts on his lips. “You really made me love itself.” Viktor nodded resolutely. “Chris and JJ definitely don’t stand a chance this time.”

It wasn’t that he had any more doubts, but Yuuri believed in the words wholeheartedly. “They never did. You’re the most breathtaking one out there, Viktor. On or off the runway...no one can keep their eyes off of you.” Yuuri mentally banged his head against a wall, having nearly slipped up in his words. 

**_I_ ** _ can’t keep my eyes off of you, _ was what he had wanted to say.

Viktor’s gaze grew warm. “You’re so sweet, Yuuri. I’ve been thinking this for awhile, but whoever becomes your lover will be the luckiest in the world.”

_ Not nearly as lucky as the one who gets to have you _ . Yuuri looked between the two of them staring at their reflections. They were close. They could easily touch, as they had so many times. To Yuuri’s surprise, a resolve he rarely felt seemed to burn in his eyes when he looked at Viktor -- the  _ real  _ one, not the reflection. 

“Even you?” he asked quietly. 

Viktor glanced up at him curiously, tearing away from the mirror as well. Yuuri met those beautiful blue eyes without wavering, but it was a determination that wasn’t perfectly replicated in the slight quiver of his voice. 

“Viktor, since we’re here now, at another competition where everyone thinks we’re showing off our love… What if we actually were lovers? Going out, that is! Like…”

When his eyes finally did flicker away, Viktor leaned forward to meet them again. “Like boyfriends?” he asked, expression carefully neutral. 

“Boyfriends.” The word felt heavy on Yuuri’s tongue. Not unpleasantly. Just  _ new _ . “Yeah. That.”

Viktor’s eyes got wide. Before Yuuri could try turning away or changing the subject, Viktor seized his hands, pulling him in close. His lips were trembling slightly, like he couldn’t decide on smiling or not or whispering or shouting up to the clouds. 

“Yuuri. Yuuri, would that be something you’d want? Do you want me to be your boyfriend for real?”

“I…!” Oh. Oh god, he didn’t want the question directed to him. Of  _ course  _ he wanted to be together with Viktor for real. More than anything else in the world, he wanted this love to blossom with mutual affection and desire. He wanted Viktor’s heart, his everything. 

But he couldn’t say it. The words and feelings were all caught in his throat. He swore he couldn’t even breathe, the air coiling in his chest against his rapidly-beating heart. 

_ Tell him _ . Yuuri looked into the hopeful, patient gleam of Viktor’s eyes.  _ Tell him. Take that leap, just like in the elevator, just like dancing, just like holding him in your arms.  _

“Yuuri…” 

“Hold on, Viktor, it’s just…”

If it weren’t for the make-up, the lines around Viktor’s eyes would deepen. Yuuri could only tell the change in mood by one corner of Viktor’s lips finally turning up. The smile was strained. “Yuuri, I don’t like being teased like this.” 

Yuuri started. “T- _ teased _ ?”

A sharp knock sounded on the door, followed by Mila’s voice telling them that Stammi Vicino’s turn on the runway would be soon.

Viktor let go of Yuuri’s hands, and Yuuri was left with his fingers slightly curled and cold, missing where Viktor’s hands had filled out the empty spaces.

Yuuri busied himself with cleaning up the powders and compacts as Viktor checked himself in the mirror once more before they departed. The air between them remained tense all the while, the playful banter of before completely frozen over, and neither could walk near each other.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach, one that said he’d totally messed up an amazing chance --  _ again _ .

The music met them long before the lights and bustle of the other models did. Yakov was on one side, gesturing for Viktor to hurry over as the last Intoxicated model returned, and there was an announcement for Stammi Vicino’s appearance. Sara was there with Michele -- both her make-up artist and brother -- who continued to fret over her already glamorous appearance. Mila was ready right in front of her and waved at them, but her hand and her smile slowly fell at seeing their faces. 

“Hey, you guys okay?” Mila leaned over to ask Yuuri. “Don’t be nervous now. Just have some faith in each other, yeah?”

Yuuri only nodded. “Y-yeah…” 

“Look alive, Viktor!” Chris suddenly called. He stood with Masumi, the two of them heading back to the dressing rooms. “I won’t forgive you if you and Yuuri aren’t giving it your all!” 

Viktor gave a tight smile in response. It was clear he was distracted, and only Yuuri had ideas on what he was thinking so heavily about. With Mila then Sara already stepping onto the platform though, there was nothing that Yuuri could do about it. He’d done his job, and now the rest he had to leave to Viktor. 

With the next flash of lights, Viktor ascended onto the runway, and Yuuri trailed behind as close as he was allowed, watching him from a safe, out-of-the-way vantage point. As he watched Viktor’s glittering, pale back retreat from him, Yuuri’s thoughts turned serious. Chris gave him a curious look, but Yuuri waved him off with a curt smile. 

What the hell had Viktor meant about Yuuri teasing him? True, Yuuri hesitated in giving Viktor an answer, but it was only because Yuuri had held in his feelings for so long that he had no idea how to voice them. What was he supposed to do then when Viktor suddenly shoved the spotlight on him? Hadn’t  _ he  _ been the one to answer Yuuri’s question with another question? Couldn’t he just tell Yuuri himself what he wanted? It would’ve been simple to just deny or accept the idea of them being boyfriends. Why did  _ Yuuri  _ have to be the one to say everything, to be the one to confess his feelings, and make himself vulnerable?

The crowd cheered and the cameras winked at a faster rate than before as Viktor glided forward, his hips swaying with purpose and his shoulders rolled back. He looked so confident out there. 

But there were things he was insecure about too. Not only in his career and identity, but also in love. Not that anyone would’ve guessed it. Even Yuuri had been oblivious to it at first. From day one, Viktor had flirted with Yuuri, and had given him such open, adoring smiles and kissed his forehead; he’d brush back Yuuri’s hair and held his hand and said such sweet things… 

_ You’re the tease _ , Yuuri thought petulantly.  _ You kept your attention on me, made me feel precious and beautiful, and yet you say I’m the unfair one for not saying anything about my feelings.  _

_ Viktor, I’ve...I’ve dreamed about being by your side for  _ years _. I’ve been pining over you for  _ months _. I couldn’t believe any of this was even happening, much less believe there was a real possibility of you falling in love with me. _

Viktor spun back from the runway, smile perfectly carved on his shimmering lips. Even in the shadows, far from the spotlight, Yuuri felt like Viktor’s eyes had met his. The blue color sparkled with undeniable love.

_ That’s right _ .  _ You  _ have  _ fallen in love with me though -- haven’t you?  _  Yuuri didn’t know if he was going to cry in relief or frustration. Maybe both. 

Maybe he  _ and  _ Viktor were both cruel, idiotic teases. 

_ Stupid Viktor. Why didn’t you say anything? Did you think I’d run away?  _ Well, with Yuuri’s track record, he supposed there was actually some merit to that. But he couldn’t help it; he doubted himself all the time, even when his feelings begged to be released. 

Confessing love was such a scary thing.

The sounds of the crowd and music reached a dull roar in Yuuri’s ears. Viktor seemed to float back down to him, all fluid grace and alluring gait. The only thing he could hear anymore was Viktor say his name and ask if he could help him out of the outfit. Maybe Viktor wasn’t mad at him after all. Yuuri followed right along back to the dressing room and away from the fashion extravaganza. 

Yuuri glanced over at the man beside him.  _ I just need you to have some faith in me, Viktor. I’ll only hesitate if I don’t know where you stand too. Have faith in my feelings! _

_ \--Like how I need to have faith in yours... _

Viktor huffed impatiently as soon as they were inside, making a point to tug uselessly at the zipper along his back. “I think it got stuck. Can you help me out, Yuuri? I have to get changed to the next outfit quickly.”

“Yeah, sure. Just hold still.” Yuuri got close and fiddled with the zipper. It wasn’t a simple linear one; Seung Gil had designed it to run almost diagonally across Viktor’s back. All of Viktor’s tugging had gotten it snagged a bit on the fabric. Yuuri released an amused breath through his nose.

“Were you trying to strip in front of everyone else or something? This is what you get for being impatient and not waiting until you were back in here.” 

“Don’t be mean, Yuuri! Free me already!” Viktor whined. “This is  _ not  _ the outfit I want to die in.”

Yuuri laughed, and it helped lighten the air a bit. “I think that would offend Seung Gil.” The fabric finally came loose, and Yuuri tugged the zipper down its curved path, a sliver of Viktor’s skin from his left shoulder to the right side of his ribcage blooming into view. Soft ridges of bone and muscle rolled underneath the skin as Viktor shifted, and as Yuuri parted the opening more, his thumb grazed over the silky plane of Viktor’s flesh. His eyes traced the column of Viktor’s spine up, up, up...to where the ends of his platinum hair tickled his slender neck.

_ I wonder… Are we just going to keep dancing around these feelings? Are we going to be scared to be vulnerable? Are we going to be afraid of falling in love? One day, we’ll have to accept laying ourselves bare in front of each other. _

_ Nothing is going to change if we don’t say anything.  _

“There we go,” he said, voice unexpectedly low. 

“Thank you, Yuuri. Now let’s hurry back so that… Yuuri?” Viktor had taken a step forward, but was held in place where Yuuri’s hands held his biceps. The outfit had come undone enough to slip down a shoulder, exposing more skin.

Even though they were closed off from the runway’s color and excitement, Viktor was still glowing, like he’d taken all that energy and light for himself and adorned himself with it. It took Yuuri a moment to realize this was the passion Viktor had brought to show off to everyone. Despite the tension from before, this glow had remained undiminished, and it was the product of their feelings.

Everyone had seen it.

_ This is our love, and yet we’re the only ones who haven’t been able to bask in it yet. _

Yuuri turned Viktor towards him and pulled him in a few steps closer, until he was in place right in his arms. To anyone coming in, it would look like they were getting together to start a dance. A dance. It felt better to think of it that way. Yuuri’s hands slid to Viktor’s waist.

“Yuuri?” Viktor tracked the motions of his hands then frowned. “We’re going to be late.” 

For a few moments, Yuuri refused to move. He stared up at Viktor, everything he ever felt about him coming to a head on the tip of his tongue, so close to spilling free that Yuuri swore he could taste the words -- they were rich and sweet, like the sound of Viktor’s voice, the passion in his embrace…

“I just need a little longer,” he said quietly. “Why can’t time stop so I can have a little longer?”

Viktor’s expression gradually sobered, and he let out a long breath. His hands joined Yuuri’s at his waist and pried them away. “I’ve asked myself the same thing for awhile now. But you’re only here for right now, Yuuri. That’s why…” He offered a small smile. “That’s why I’m going on that runway with no regrets. Because whatever happens next, I’m going to keep taking steps forward.”

“In your $800 designer heels?” Yuuri said, attempting to lighten the mood.

“In my $800 designer heels, you’re right,” Viktor laughed with him, rocking their hands together. The fact that they were nearly in the same position as that Valentine’s Day shoot when Yuuri had challenged Viktor to earn his kiss wasn’t lost on Yuuri.

When Yuuri looked up again, his eyes met with Viktor’s lips. “Viktor, I--”

The door to the dressing room swung open, and the two of them parted just enough to see Seung Gil scowling at them. Even with the distance though, Viktor being in a state of undress and Yuuri’s face being flushed must have made for an incriminating scene, and Seung Gil huffed.

“Viktor, you need the next outfit on  _ immediately _ . You’re going to set the whole show back at this rate.” Seung Gil got straight to work, plucking the next ensemble from its hanger and starting to pull it on Viktor as Yuuri helped him out of the first one. 

“S-sorry, Seung Gil.”

Seung Gil met Yuuri’s eyes only briefly. “Don’t be a distraction. I told you before, we all have to make our efforts shine on the model.” 

The outfit was pulled on and smoothed down, a form-fitting white button-down that was left undone along Viktor’s chest, framed by the silken maroon tie draped under his collar that was also undone. The shining, black pants were tight enough to accentuate the shape of Viktor’s ass and thighs, and were hemmed high enough to give a tempting view of his ankles. Tied around his hips was a thin, chiffon scarf. 

Seung Gil impatiently gestured to the door. “Let’s go, Yakov is becoming an annoyance.” 

Sure enough, as soon as they were out and making their way to the runway again, Yakov began a tirade in loud Russian to Viktor, who just laughed a quick apology and assembled himself in line in front of Mila. 

Watching him from far away, feeling like the outsider again, Yuuri suddenly became terrified that somehow, some fissure had slowly opened up between them. In reality, Viktor was giving him a smile, and Yuuri was standing in the shadows, watching when Viktor turned his back to him.

_I’m not satisfied being in a place where you’re always walking away from me. I want to be your runway, your spotlight, your mirror and soft unmade bed when you finally wipe the make-up off and get to escape from the pressure_ _\-- I want to be your everything._

Such simple words that had been frozen on his tongue and in his throat for too long. They tickled him like a coming bubble of laughter, or saying the name of his loved one.

“ _ But you’re only here for right now, Yuuri. Whatever happens next, I’m going to keep taking steps forward. _ ”

Suddenly, his system was invaded by pulsating adrenaline and firecrackers. He stumbled forward into the line, squeezing in front of Mila and ignoring Yakov and Seung Gil’s exclamations of surprise. 

“ _ Viktor _ !” he exclaimed through the music’s pulse. 

Viktor froze in his step, turning to Yuuri like his voice was a spell.

“Yuuri?”

_ When I finally say it, I want to mean it. I want it to be wholehearted, and for it to fly from my lips with confidence. Because if it’s one thing that I don’t have a doubt about in this world, it’s... _

He slid his hands over Viktor’s shoulders, pulling him forward. He could barely make out Viktor’s eyes widening -- not disgust, not rejection, just heart-stopping  _ surprise  _ and awe--

They met in a kiss. 

Yuuri felt as though he were melting into dazzling starlight. His hands couldn’t keep to themselves, slowly sliding up to cup Viktor’s face. Viktor’s soft, blissful sigh tickled against his cheeks, and Yuuri felt the tug of his lips spreading into a smile. Yuuri chased the sensation of those soft lips, pressing as hard as he could like he was making a wish, filling every heartbeat he could with  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ .

In the next second, the loud music came back to rattling his senses, and he broke away from Viktor with his body set on fire. 

_ I kissed him _ . At the same time, they brought their fingertips to their lips, and Yuuri’s were throbbing slightly from the force of it. The heart-shaped confetti on Viktor’s lipgloss were all over the place along with the make-up, and Yuuri quickly fixed it as best as he could. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t-- You were leaving, and I just--” _ I KISSED HIM!!!!!!! _

“ _ Yuuri _ .” Viktor looked utterly delighted, and a beautiful redness that had nothing to do with rouge colored his cheeks. 

“Oh my god,” Mila whispered, and it was only then that Yuuri remembered their audience. She and Sara were wearing matching expressions of wide eyes and ecstatic smiles. 

It was the total opposite of Yakov, who looked close to popping a blood vessel. He started shouting at Viktor again in an enraged mix of Russian and English, all but shoving him past the curtains to the runway. The light shone just enough on Viktor’s face to show the spread of his dazzling smile as he stepped onto the platform to greet the excited crowd and cameras. It made his silver hair glow with a halo.

“Yuuri! Don’t take your eyes off me, okay?” 

Yuuri was in the middle of answering -- with an equally stupid smile, he was sure -- before Yakov slapped a hand down on his shoulder and dragged him away from Viktor and the cheers of Mila and Sara. When they were back in the shadows and away from the flurry of models, Yakov shook a finger at him. “What on  _ earth  _ were you thinking, boy!? Save that for your own time, there’s a show going on!”

Oh. What  _ had  _ Yuuri been thinking? He might not have been thinking at all, all he knew was that he needed to let that out. After holding it in for so long, he’d finally been able to convey his feelings. With all his might, he had pushed it all onto Viktor with the force of a shooting star. 

In retrospect, it was an embarrassing and rough first kiss, but Viktor had looked so  _ happy _ . And so was Yuuri; his heart was fluttering out of his chest. His head, on the other hand, was reeling out of control and was mortified that he kissed  _ Viktor, kissed his idol and most beautiful man in the fashion world, kissed him in front of all those people-- _

_ Did I do that? Did I really do that? What’s everyone going to say? No one in the audience caught it, did they? What if someone saw it, and it spreads on the Internet all over again, that we kissed, we KISSED-- _

“Yuuri!” Yakov bellowed in his ear. “Are you  _ listening _ !?”

“Y-yes, of course! V-Viktor just told me not to look away, so…” He blindly groped around to pat Yakov’s chest reassuringly, but all his starry-eyed attention was on the runway.

Yakov released a long-suffering sigh. “Things are about to become more of a  _ headache  _ around here.”

 

* * *

For the first time since he was legal, Yuuri’s immediate impulse after his mental state going haywire wasn’t to down the nearest glass of alcohol available. Of course, it probably had to do with the fact that rather than a destructive breakdown, Yuuri was on  _ cloud nine _ . His head hadn’t stopped spinning even when the show ended and the lights went back to normal. Michele kept looking at him funny like he was sure Yuuri was a nutjob and deserted him in the ballroom.

The models were getting dressed back into their reception attire, and Yakov had pointedly kept Yuuri and Michele away, saying that Georgi could handle the make-up since the touch-ups would be minimal. Yuuri tried not to think of how Georgi would obviously spot the smear of Viktor’s lipgloss from the kiss, and distracted himself by being a wallflower among the laughter of the fashion icons he was surrounded by. 

Yuuri licked his lips, shocked when something stuck to the tip of his tongue. He hadn’t checked his own make-up, come to think of it. Oh god, was that--? A quick look at himself via his phone’s selfie mode showed magenta smudged outside the line of his light-red painted lips, and three lopsided confetti hearts pinned to his mouth.

_ Oh my god why didn’t anyone say anything? It’s so obvious what I was doing!  _ No wonder Michele had ditched him.

“Oh  _ my _ , Yuuri. Were you a naughty boy earlier?” 

Yuuri put his phone down, and Chris was standing right in front of him with a bawdy grin. Masumi appeared to be on the other side of the room, gathering refreshments. 

At the pointed look Chris was giving his mouth, Yuuri flushed and rolled his lips between his teeth, shaking his head so hard that strands of his bangs flew free from the gel slicked in his hair. 

“Oh~?” Chris arched a brow, his lips quirking up seductively. “Don’t be shy. I saw how Viktor looked on the runway. He’s always been confident, but dare I say there was a spring in his step and a certain sparkle in his eyes? I’ve never seen him like that.” His stare softened, looking over Yuuri more meticulously as if some secret was written on his body. 

“You know, I was certain that by putting the stakes on love, Stammi Vicino wouldn’t stand a chance. You might have fooled JJ, but I knew from the beginning that you and Viktor weren’t together. What you two had was hardly a fulfilling romance. You’re skilled, Yuuri, I’ll give you that, but even Viktor can’t blossom love he hasn’t experienced.” The smile left Chris’ lips. “I can see though that I was mistaken.”

Yuuri relaxed his mouth. Chris was a lot more perceptive than he gave him credit for. He couldn’t forget that he was far from the only one that had followed Viktor’s career. It wouldn’t be long before everyone who watched Viktor would turn their gaze to Yuuri too, if they hadn’t already. And with that, there might arise more scrutiny on who they were to each other, and what that meant for Viktor’s career. But that was something Yuuri had been aware of since the beginning. This was the second time though that someone seemed to insinuate that Yuuri was a  _ positive  _ influence to Viktor’s modeling. It felt...nice. Yuuri could only hope that he wouldn’t make those words untrue.

The playful gleam returned to Chris’ eyes, and he patted Yuuri’s shoulder. “You two really have gotten me fired up again. I look forward to facing you both on the runway again.”

Yuuri found himself smiling. “Thanks, Chris.”

Masumi soon returned, saying hello to Yuuri while he passed one of two glasses of champagne to Chris. The two lovers started their own conversation in what sounded like French, so Yuuri glanced toward the back entrance of the ballroom just in time to see Mila, Sara, and Viktor come into the room. Blood rushed to Yuuri’s face, and he suddenly found his dress shoes very interesting to look at. 

That was right. He kissed Viktor. He  _ kissed  _ Viktor behind the runway with all the grace of an inexperienced teenager but for some reason, Viktor had kissed him back and gazed at Yuuri afterward like a long-kept wish had finally been granted, his smile full of nothing but love. There was no reason to suddenly be shy when Yuuri was pretty damn sure that rejection was nowhere in Viktor’s head. 

Before Viktor could even make his way over to the trio though, Yakov pulled Viktor aside in a determined route to another group of models and agents. Yuuri hesitated, wondering if he should go over there instead, but the number of people made him reluctant. What he really wanted was a few minutes of privacy to talk to Viktor -- and judging by the glances Viktor kept giving him, he felt the same. 

Eventually, Yuuri’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

**From: ✨ Viktor ✨**

_ Meet me in my dressing room? _

 

Yuuri looked up. Viktor was talking with the group, looking perfectly nonchalant. He quickly texted back a reply.

 

_ >I’ll go first. You look busy _

 

As soon as he turned away, Masumi noticed. “Yuuri, you’re leaving? The results for the sponsors will be any minute now. The only reason I know  _ that  _ is because JJ over there seems to be getting louder.” He pointed to the center of the room, where JJ was having an animated, albeit one-sided, conversation with others in LE ROY.

“Ah… It’ll be just for a second!” Yuuri reassured, waving his hand. 

“If you’re sure…”

Chris caught on to the conversation and squeezed Masumi’s shoulder. “Fret not, my love, I think Yuuri is about to have a  _ lot  _ more fun than us who are stuck in this ballroom.” He gave Yuuri a wink before pointedly leading him and Masumi in the opposite direction.

Relieved, Yuuri moved again. He hadn’t gone more than two steps though before a twin pair of hands clutched onto each of his biceps. When he was spun around, he faced both Mila and Georgi’s brightened faces.

“ _ There _ you are, Yuuri! We were looking all over the place for you! Can we talk for a bit?” Mila closed in, practically sandwiching him between her and Georgi. 

“A-ah, actually, I was going,” he gestured vaguely, “that way, it’ll be real quick--”

“So will this! Look, I just want to ask,” she looked pointedly at his mouth and plucked one heart from his lips, “how long have you and Viktor been going out?”

Oh god, he was  _ screwed _ . “I, uh… I think there’s some mix up here,” he stammered, even though the evidence that proved otherwise was stuck to Mila’s fingertip.

Georgi hummed, his expression way too serious and thoughtful for Yuuri’s comfort. “Perhaps we should leave him be, Mila. Theirs might be a love that they’re not ready to bring into the light yet, and thrives in the seductive secrecy of the dark.”

“ _ Yeah, right _ , this cute little devil snuck a smooch in front of everybody!” Despite the force of the accusation, Mila seemed utterly delighted by this development. But her words pointing out the pairs of eyes that had witnessed the scene were the last thing Yuuri wanted to recall about that moment with Viktor.

He was starting to regret not snagging a drink or two, after all.

Viktor was glancing over at them, tilting his head in confusion. Yuuri could only foresee Mila grabbing Viktor and interrogating both of them if he got near though, so he shook his head, hoping Viktor would stay away. 

He cleared his throat, ducking out of Mila and Georgi’s hold. “Aha, okay, it was great talking to you guys, but I really do, uh, gotta go.” Before they could grab him again, he dashed off, side-stepping the other models in the room as Mila exclaimed, “Okay! But you better give the whole story later!!”

People littered the room in glittering outfits, large bows, and colorful hair. Yuuri swept through all of them, giving quick apologies as he rushed past. A few yards away, he saw Viktor pull away from his own group and match Yuuri’s frantic steps, never taking his eyes off of him. Several other attendees tried to catch his attention by waving him over or clutching onto his arm, but Viktor only gave polite laughs as he twirled away and got back on track.

Having far less obstacles, Yuuri was the first to return to the dressing room, heat sticking to his cheeks and under his collar. One look in the mirror showed that he was bright red all over. Yuuri tugged at his collar in an attempt to cool himself down, but his heart was racing, his legs growing shaky and--

The door opened, Viktor’s gorgeous and equally flushed face joining Yuuri’s reflection in the mirror. As soon as their eyes locked, all of Yuuri’s senses seemed to clear, his attention suspended with their gazes. Slowly, he straightened up, dropping his hand as he turned to face Viktor.

Viktor broke out into a smile. “Yuuri.”

The call of his name by that voice was like a summon, and Yuuri stumbled forward until he melted right into Viktor’s wide, offering embrace. One of his hands came up and threaded into Yuuri’s hair, stirring out more strands from the gel. He was a mess, a complete and utter  _ mess  _ with ruddy cheeks and sticky hair and the kiss still imprinted on his lips. But Viktor was the last person to care -- he pulled back just enough to tip Yuuri’s head up to look at him, eyes shimmering.

“That was so bold of you out there,  _ zvyozdochka _ . You really surprised me.”

“It was the only thing I could think of. I -- I wanted to tell you things first, but it all got tied up, and…” Yuuri clutched onto Viktor’s shirt, voice growing soft. “And I wouldn’t be able to take it if you walked away without knowing how I felt about you.”

“And...how  _ do  _ you feel about me?”

_ You still need it spelled out? You really are a tease _ , Yuuri thought, but not without a hint of fondness. He gathered up Viktor’s hands, squeezing them tightly for support. “I want to stay close to you. I want to spend every day with you and drink your coffee -- which is so much better than Starbucks, by the way -- and sing ridiculous songs with you and see more and more sides of you, more than anyone else in the world has seen. I  _ love  _ you, Viktor.” The words spilled freely, and shaped around his mouth in a way that felt so  _ right _ . Yuuri’s chest overflowed in a way that had tears stinging his eyes, the feelings pouring out at last and he beamed at Viktor with the sensation of their freedom warming his body. “I love you so much.”

Viktor exhaled, like he could finally breathe again. “Yuuri... Beautiful star, darling gold…” He cupped Yuuri’s soft cheeks and brought him in for a kiss. It was a lot more gentle than the last one, no teeth pressing against their lips, and no loud music. The kiss Viktor initiated was slow, sweet, but Yuuri could feel the desire that threatened to melt its composure. He made a happy sound in his throat, moving with the slow undulation of Viktor’s lips in a series of kisses until they parted with small smacks. More confetti hearts rained down from the drag of their lips, spilling onto their chests and feet. Yuuri laughed at the sensation and pulled back. For a few moments, they stayed like that, silently taking each other in with roaming eyes and soft hands. 

Viktor smiled. “I wanted to do that to you forever.”

“Then why didn’t you do it sooner? I was dying here,” Yuuri said with a short laugh, borrowing Phichit’s dramatic claim that this pining had, indeed, been sheer torture.

Viktor's lips pressed in a thin line. “I did practically everything but that, don't you think? Part of me was hoping you'd just understand how I felt, but… I suppose I was just being slow. I’m not a half-assed person, and yet I kept dragging my feet about this most important thing.” His expression grew solemn. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

The apology was surprising, the last thing Yuuri expected to hear. “For what? Don't be. I wasn't being upfront either. I was...scared to be vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable.” Viktor tested the word out, and some understanding reached his eyes. His hands grasped Yuuri’s and his thumbs rubbed thoughtful circles over them. “It might have been the same for me, actually. Even after we promised each other we wouldn't hide anymore, I left it to you to be the first one to open up. It really wasn’t fair of me. Of either of us, I suppose.” 

Yuuri shook his head. “What were we  _ doing _ ?” 

Viktor laughed, smacking a hand to his forehead. “I have no clue. But it worked out. Yuuri found me anyway, after all. I wouldn't be able to hide these feelings for long.”

“You're right. You wouldn't.” Yuuri pressed his and Viktor's foreheads together. “Neither could I though.”  

_ We disguise ourselves in expensive clothes and flashy make-up, hoping the spectacle is enough to entrance the crowd. We convince ourselves maybe that’ll be enough to make us happy. But like anyone else in the world, we just want to be found. _

_ I found you. And you found me. _

“Hmm, there you are.” Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist. Their noses were brushing now. “I can never take my eyes off of you, Yuuri Katsuki. I love you.” He sealed the words with another kiss, lacing his hands together at the base of Yuuri’s spine, pulling them closer. In no time at all, Yuuri sank into the kiss, tasting and drinking in every bit of Viktor’s mouth that he could with a quiet, happy moan.

The door knocked, startling them, but only a moment before Viktor pressed Yuuri against the wall, deepening the kiss. 

“Viktor! Yuuri! Are you two in there!?” Mila’s voice carried through the wood. The knob jiggled, but by the unyielding click, Viktor had apparently had the foresight to lock the door. Yuuri almost laughed, panting against Viktor’s lips as his tongue was drawn out.

“Hey, I know you’re there! Georgi, they totally locked the door!”

“Oh, Mila, leave them to their tryst.”

“But the results are back! Don’t they care about their silly competition? Hey, do you guys hear me!? I’m saying Stammi Vicino won! We got the most sponsors, don’t you care? Viktor? Yuuri!?”

Ignoring the insistent knocks and voices on the other side of the door, Viktor and Yuuri slowly sank to the floor, enjoying every second of exploring each other’s heat through the kiss, rubbing lips and tongues sliding inside, unable to hide their smiles with each exchange. 

For the first time in his life, Yuuri wasn’t drifting away, he wasn’t out of touch with gravity. Right here, in Viktor’s arms, he could feel himself standing on warm, solid ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT FINALLY HAPPENED. I WAS SWEATING PROFUSELY THE WHOLE TIME WRITING THIS HAHAH. I hope it was worth the wait :') OKAY GET READY FOR A LOT OF LINKS.
> 
> It was suggested by a friend that I follow this make-up account on IG and while most of the time I pull something out my ass, Viktor's make-up this time was inspired by [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/BYydSJBH7xC/), just with a little less detail, and all the stars replaced with hearts (it's SUCH a good account, I'll probably more directly reference it in the coming chapters).
> 
> MORE FANART!! I'M YELLING IN THE CLUB!! Hali did an amazing depiction of Viktor in his [faery king outfit](https://twitter.com/sarumitrash/status/899839131211235329)from last chapter! Look at Dem Heels <3 
> 
> Maru also drew [this magazine cover](https://twitter.com/mofspades/status/891853609390002178) feat. Viktor being front and center and honestly this is most-likely hanging somewhere on Yuuri's wall. I heart it so much.
> 
> That about wraps it up! See y'all next time! Visit me on Twitter @RenOnIceCream


	12. spotlight and now it's on us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, long time no see! I'm sorry that I've been away for the past five months. That is such a long time to be gone and leave this series without an update. My life has been really rocky, and at the moment my time is basically going back and forth between my day (technically night) job and my freelance work. It's still really busy for me, but I'm doing my best to manage my time better, because writing is my lifeblood, and I didn't realize how much I needed it and missed it until I sat down and let myself write for a bit. I haven't abandoned y'all!!
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who continued to support the story in my long absence. I've been given such good vibes when I really doubted this story, so thank you for sticking with me. This chapter isn't The Official Chapter Twelve, thus it is more an 11.5. The real chapter 12 is done, and it's currently being beta'd, so I aim to have that out very soon. I hope that this silly lovey-dovey filler, which I wrote for Valentine's Day, is good enough to tide you over for now. 
> 
> Can't wait to see everyone again! Title is from Kita Alexander's "Plain Sight".

“Yuuri! Yuuri, are you in there?”

Yuuri had been in the middle of laying in bed in a daze for the past hour. It felt like ever since he left the venue for the fashion show with Intoxicated and LE ROY, his mind had been floating six inches above his body. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but it _had_ nearly made him trip on the stairs up to his and Phichit’s apartment, and he _had_ let the pot of vegetables boil over when he made dinner.

For his own safety, Yuuri decided that he was going to stay in his room for the rest of the night, at least until his heart rate returned to normal. So far, that seemed to not be happening anytime soon. 

“I’m in,” Yuuri called.

Phichit opened the door, looking like he’d just come home. There was a frantic expression on his face, his mouth open to start ranting. He took one glance at Yuuri though and widened his eyes. “Uh. Dude, what happened to you?”

“What?”

Phichit gestured at his own mouth. “This… Your lipstick is all…” He blinked, invisible dots connecting in his head. “Oh my god. Ohhh my GOD, please tell me that this is what I think it is!” Grinning, he went over and practically leapt on Yuuri’s bed.

Ah, fuck. Yuuri had fixed his makeup -- and Viktor’s -- after their little make-out session in the dressing room. The last thing he wanted was all those models and sponsors to think that he and Viktor were fooling around during such a serious show. It didn’t stop Viktor and him from giggling through the entire time Yuuri re-applied the lipstick -- nor did it stop Viktor from giving Yuuri one last lingering kiss when he dropped Yuuri off. But, of course, one lingering kiss had turned to several more and…

Yuuri foresaw a long future of constantly re-adjusting his makeup. But he supposed on the long list of his problems, this was the only one he wanted to have.

Cheeks growing red, Yuuri rubbed at his lips, unable to stop from smiling. “Um, it’s… I kissed Viktor.”

Phichit bounced on the bed. “FUCK. YES.” He looked like he wanted to yell much more, but he calmed down and looked at Yuuri expectantly. Yuuri admired his patience; he had grabbed the nearest pillow when he’d come home and yelled in it for at least ten minutes.

Unable to torture his best friend, Yuuri sat up and divulged. He was absolutely _dying_ to gush anyway. “It was… Oh god, I did it in front of _everyone_ . But then we went to his dressing room, and we kissed _more_ and…” Yuuri buried his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he said, “It was _amazing_ , Phichit. I kissed Viktor. Viktor kissed _me_!”

“Hooooly shit,” whispered Phichit. He tousled Yuuri’s hair, making them both laugh. “Yuuri Katsuki, you _player_ , you! I _told_ you he was into you! How long did I say it?”

“I know, I know! You called it all!”

Sighing, Phichit pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “I understand now that you’re lovey-dovey boyfriends, but don’t forget that I was first husband. Even when you two get married, _I’m_ first husband.”

“Of course,” laughed Yuuri. His heart skipped a beat at Phichit describing him and Viktor as _boyfriends_. He felt like yelling into his pillow again.

Before he could get too caught up in his feelings again, Yuuri cleared his throat. “Uh, you sounded kind of panicked when you came in. Did you need something?”

Phichit groaned. “Oh, right. Hey, have you seen Chaiya anywhere? He and Aroon busted out again like the Houdinis they are. I found Aroon, but…”

Ah, Phichit’s hamsters. The lovable fuzzballs had a habit of escaping at least once a week. Yuuri kept suggesting that Phichit upgrade to a jailbreak-proof hamster habitat. In the meantime, they had this to deal with.

“I haven’t seen him, but I’ll help you look.”

“Thanks, man. Hey, after this, let’s bust out the good wine to celebrate you and Viktor getting together.” Phichit grinned and hopped off the bed, heading out to look for his hamster elsewhere.

Right. Hamster-finding time. Yuuri lowered himself to the floor and started looking under his desk and in his bathroom. Chaiya had favorite hiding spots, mostly in Yuuri’s room, so he was most-likely in here somewhere… He cooed out the hamster’s name as he searched.

_Not in the corner, not in my clothes hamper..._

“Aha!” Yuuri saw the little hamster in a content fuzzy puddle under Yuuri’s bed. He scooped Chaiya up, rousing him from his nap. As he reached to get him out though, Yuuri noticed what he’d been laying on.

 _Oh_. Taking care to hold Chaiya close to his chest, Yuuri dug out the contents he’d forgotten that he’d shoved under his bed.

Posters of Viktor, and some of Yuuri’s favorite magazines that Viktor had been in. On glossy pages and covers, the same blue eyes stared up at Yuuri. Yuuri had taken them all off his walls and shelves after his fight with Viktor. It almost felt like whispering an apology to an old friend by pulling them out again. Yuuri glanced up at his walls, too empty ever since the loss. Now that Viktor was his boyfriend now though, would it be weird to put them back up? If he ever wanted to have Viktor over though, he'd be too embarrassed to take him to his room if he put the posters back up. Even worse, he wasn't ready for Viktor to know he'd had these up in the first place.

“Phichit! I found your little escape artist!”

Right away, Phichit came into the room, gratefully taking Chaiya from Yuuri’s hand and starting to scold the hamster in Thai. Chaiya paid no mind, just sniffing at Phichit’s face before falling back asleep.

“Oh hey, that’s why your room looked so weird,” Phichit noted, glancing at the posters around Yuuri.

“Yeah, it was from… Well, it’s all fine now.” Yuuri plucked one up. “Be honest, is it creepy if I put these back up?”

“Is it creepy to have pictures of your boyfriend on your walls? Not at all." Phichit tapped his chin. "However, maybe you should upgrade the pictures you use.”

“Upgrade?”

Phichit nodded, petting the top of Chaiya’s head. “Yeah, man. You’re not just a fan and an idol anymore. You don’t need posters of an _idol_ , you need to put up pics of you and your _boyfriend_ , you know? Ooh, I can help you get started!” Without hesitation, Phichit pulled out his phone with his free hand and started typing away with his thumb.

Yuuri wasn’t surprised when his phone chimed a second later. He raised a brow in question, and Phichit just looked pleased with himself. “Send them to Viktor, too. If you like them, I can get some things printed for you. Now then, if you’ll excuse me,” he gave his hamster a hard look, “I have to online shop for a _huge, iron padlock._ ”

After he left the room, Yuuri, still sitting on the floor, opened up the message that Phichit had sent him. It was an email with several attachments, and it took a moment for them to download before Yuuri could see what he’d been sent.

It was photos of him and Viktor, the ones Phichit had taken that day when they’d had the studio to themselves. Yuuri’s heart fluttered at the sight of them. They had already looked so good in previews, but thanks to Phichit’s handy editing work, there was now so much more to appreciate. The smiles on their faces, the mirth at the corners of their eyes, their bodies posing together as if they’d been made for each other. Yuuri wondered if that was too sappy to think, but seeing them together like this, he could only think, _Perfect_. He definitely wouldn't mind having one of these framed for his desk or put in his wallet.

He rolled his lips between his teeth, clicking to forward the pictures to Viktor’s email address. He wanted Viktor to see them, but was that weird or clingy, showing off their pictures when they’d just had their first kiss mere hours ago? Yuuri had been clingy before, and it hadn’t been good for him or his partner. He wanted Viktor to know that he wanted him and was thinking of him, but not if it meant it’d annoy Viktor.

His thumb hesitated over the send button, then finally pressed it. Fuck it. They were too fucking cute in those pictures, and Viktor had been the one visibly excited about getting them.

Figuring it was about time to wash off his makeup, Yuuri went into the bathroom and started scrubbing his face with his wipes before properly rinsing off. When he looked in the mirror, his lips still looked vaguely red, and his cheeks soon matched as he remembered the force of Viktor’s soft mouth against his.

His phone chimed away. Yuuri plucked it up.

 

**From: ✨ Viktor ✨**

_YUURI_

_Oh my god we’re so so soooo cute!!!_

_(´♡`ʃƪ)♡ thank you for sending them to me! Tell phichit thank you too!_

 

_> He thinks we need to take more pictures together _

 

**From: ✨ Viktor ✨**

_I agree!!_

_Just say the word and i’ll schedule a photoshoot_

 

Yuuri frowned at the declaration, but then he sighed a fond breath. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from Viktor. This was the ridiculous, wonderful man he fell in love with.

It wasn’t enough just to text him though. Sitting on his bed, Yuuri hugged his pillow and hit the “call” button.

Viktor picked up right away. “ _Well, hello, gorgeous_ ,” he purred into the receiver.

Yuuri gave an amused laugh. “You can’t even see me.”

“ _I don’t have to,"_  Viktor said with confidence. " _I know you’re in a constant state of being gorgeous._ ”

“I just wiped my makeup off and I’m wearing sweatpants.”

“ _I’m confused as to why this makes my statement less true._ ”

Unable to keep up with the flirty banter without utterly melting into his bed, Yuuri said, “You can’t possibly be serious about a photoshoot.”

Viktor chuckled, sounding far too pleased with himself. “ _Of course I am. Didn’t you see how beautiful we came out? And my walls are in desperate need of decoration._ ”

Yuuri smiled into his pillow, but he was too embarrassed to admit that he was in the same boat. “Or,” he said, “we can just take normal photos on our phones or something. I like the authenticity of it.”

Viktor hummed, thinking about it. “ _That does sound nice, too. No spotlights or dramatic poses. Something candid is intimate in its own way.”_

“Yeah, it is,” Yuuri agreed quietly. His mind kept steering to the runway show, to the heartstopping kisses, to Viktor in his arms. It was ridiculous, so ridiculous how needy he felt suddenly. It was like now that he finally had a taste of Viktor on his lips, against his body, he wanted more.

It was so weird, suddenly needing someone so much. Part of him reasoned that this was just the high of new love, that if he followed through with these feelings, he’d just make a fool of himself. So instead, the words settled heavily on his tongue.

_I wish I was with you right now. It’s barely been three hours but I miss you._

The pause between them went on for a second longer than what was comfortable. Yuuri’s head fumbled to say something. In a weird way though, the quiet was nice too. Yuuri firmly believed that he could sit in the silence for hours if it was Viktor on the other side of the line. He hugged the pillow tighter, rubbing his socked feet together.

“ _...I keep thinking about today_ ,” Viktor finally confessed. His voice was quiet.

“Me too,” Yuuri admitted, equally quiet.

Viktor hummed again, sounding happy with that news. “ _I wish I asked you to stay the night with me. Not to do anything fishy, just… Now that I know how you feel about me, I feel like I don’t want to let you go for a second. I hope that’s not too soon to say._ ”

“No!” Yuuri exclaimed. His heart ballooned in his chest, making his whole body feel light at Viktor’s words. He wasn’t alone in this feeling. It made him relieved. “I-I… I felt the same way. I feel like… I need to keep seeing you… To make sure this is real.”

A small, shuddering breath left Viktor, tickling the receiver. “ _Yuuri…_ ”

Without thinking, Yuuri pressed his lips against the receiver, leaving a soft, audible kiss. When he cradled his phone back to his ear, he heard Viktor’s gasp.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor said, sounding like he was smiling. “ _Did you send me a kiss?_ ”

“Maybe!” Yuuri buried his face in his pillow, toppling over on his bed as Viktor cooed in happiness.

Eventually, Viktor gave a small whine. “ _I want to kiss you right now, Yuuri._ ”

“We kissed a lot today,” Yuuri pointed out.

“ _Are you saying that you had enough, then?_ ” Viktor asked in challenge.

And well, there was no way that Yuuri couldn’t answer truthfully.

Phichit eventually came back in with the bottle of wine, but became petrified at seeing Yuuri practically making out with his phone. He stood, frozen, as Yuuri quickly shot up.

“Yuuri. This is _not_ what they mean by phone sex.”

“Phichit, oh my god! I-it’s not what it looks like, we just--!”

“Iiiiiii’ll just leave this right here.” Phichit put the bottle on Yuuri desk and quickly left, closing the door behind him. “Have fun, you two!”

Yuuri groaned loudly, pretending not to hear Viktor’s own embarrassed laughter and reassurances to Yuuri.

Seriously, what did a guy have to do to make-out with his boyfriend in _peace_?

“ _Well, I guess we did have to look pretty ridiculous._ ”

“At least only _Makkachin_ would judge you.”

Viktor only laughed more. Eventually, the sound of it made Yuuri smile too, and once he did, he couldn’t stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are in the honeymoon phase~ But of course, for viktuuri, the honeymoon phase is forever. They love each other so much gkbtg expect more shameless flirting next chapter. As well as the start of Fashion Week! Lots of excitement. I hope some of y'all are still with me and are looking forward to where viktuuri's love goes next :'D
> 
> As always, feel free to find me on twitter, @RenOnIceCream if you want to see extra shenanigans.


	13. we're stars and we're beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, nice to see you again! Well, here it is, the highly anticipated(???) chapter 12!! Thank you again to everyone for waiting! 
> 
> Special thanks to Kaden and Jo for being wonderful betas this chapter and dealing with my constant fretting!!! I heart you guys. Shoutout as well to my New York roommate Stage for giving me intimate tastes of NYC that simply Google wouldn't have been able to tell me. 
> 
> This update later deals with some heavy talk about anxiety and depression. I've been thinking for awhile if I wanted to get that deep in this story, but I realized that I'd be doing both Yuuri and Viktor's characters a disservice in this fic if I didn't let them have this talk. It's my hope as well that maybe certain readers will finally be able to understand why I write Viktuuri the way that I do. I'm a firm believer that MI is something that should be talked about more openly, especially with your loved ones, and with ourselves. A lot of their conversation is based on the experience of myself and many friends. Anyway, I hope that everything comes out clear, and that maybe this can let other people know that they're not alone in their feelings. I know it's a delicate topic though, so if anyone has any comments, feel free to leave them at the end of the chapter.
> 
> With that thought in mind, let's get ready for Fashion Week adventures!! Chapter title is from Alessia Cara's "Scars to Your Beautiful".

At three in the morning, two sets of alarms went off inside the Katsuki-Chulanont apartment. Yuuri tossed his phone off his bed with a distressed moan to get rid of the offensive sound. In Phichit’s room, he heard a similar groan followed by a, “I don’t want iiiiit!”

Yuuri had fallen asleep with his glasses on, right on top of a pile of his freshly laundered clothes. At least, they had been fresh and warm about three hours ago, when he realized he had no clean clothes ready to pack for the trip to New York.

September Fashion Week was finally here, and it felt like it had completely snuck up on Yuuri. After a friend had come by to pick up Phichit’s hamsters, both Yuuri and Phichit had stayed up for the better part of the night frantically getting packed last minute and talking excitedly about the event. Neither of them had been to New York before, and Phichit was determined that they experience and document _everything_ \-- he was already outlining the Instagram story.

In the end, they managed only a little over two hours of sleep.

“I hate life,” Phichit groaned, finally turning off his alarm. “I want to die. _No one_ wakes up to start their day at three-thirty in the morning.”

“I agree, I want to die,” Yuuri said, blindly fishing for his phone on the floor to dismiss the hellish ringing. Their flight to New York didn’t leave until seven-forty, but Yuuri was no stranger to how far in advance one had to prepare for an airport adventure. Especially with a suitcase only half full.

“I need coffee,” Phichit said as he trudged past Yuuri’s open door, “or I will _literally_ die.”

Yuuri stretched. “Make me a cup too, and I’ll love you forever.”

A mug of coffee and shower each later, Yuuri felt a little more awake. A little. He barely had time to get dressed and shove his liquid makeup into a ziplock bag before his phone chimed with a text.

 

**From: ✨ Viktor ✨**

_Good mooorning, sleeping beauty (●´♡`)_

_Are you awake? I’m otw_

 

_> awake…...barely _

 

**From: ✨ Viktor ✨**

_i’ll be sure to kiss the sleepy prince awake~ヽ(o♡o)/_

_I’m in the parking lot! Come out come outt_

 

“Phichit!” he called. “Viktor is here.”

His friend dashed out of his room, rolling his suitcase out and shrugging his camera bag over his shoulder. He looked a lot more awake now thanks to the caffeine. “Okay, okay, phone, keys, chargers, camera equipment, best friend -- okay, got everything!” Phichit opened the front door with a flourish, grinning. “Let’s start the Fashion Week adventure!”

Still too tired to match Phichit’s enthusiasm, Yuuri settled for a half-hearted fist pump and shuffled out the door.

Alejandro was easily spotted in the parking lot, just as bright as the smile Viktor gave them as they approached. He hopped out of the car, immediately going over to embrace Yuuri and press a smooch to his cheek.

“Good morning, Yuuri~,” he greeted, in a voice that was way too cheerful this early. His hair was already perfectly coiffed just like his clothes. Did he put on perfume, too? Leave it to Viktor Nikiforov to be full of life and immaculate beauty no matter what the hour. Yuuri felt even more dead in comparison, not even having the care or time to put on makeup.

“M-morning,” he said, his chest growing warm. He could still feel Viktor’s soft lips on his cheek. Should he kiss him back? Would that be too over-affectionate? Yuuri couldn’t forget the grinning audience they had either, so he quickly looked away from Viktor’s lonely cheek.

“Heeey, Viktor,” Phichit greeted.

“Good morning~” Viktor gave him a smile. “Here, you can put your things in the trunk. It can’t fit a lot, but it doesn’t look like you packed much.” He seemed surprised by this information. It matched Yuuri’s own surprise when the trunk was popped open and it was completely empty.

“Uh… Where’s your stuff?” Yuuri asked, frowning.

Viktor laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, Yuuri! Like I could _possibly_ fit all my luggage in Alejandro! I had all my bags shipped off to New York ahead of us; they should be there when we check into the hotel.”

“Ah.” Yuuri should’ve known. “Yes. How silly of me.”

They piled back into the car, with Yuuri sliding in next to Viktor and Phichit sliding over the Cadillac’s expensive interior in the back seat. Viktor left the hood down, and the cool air rushed through their hair throughout the whole ride to the airport. They had the road to themselves, making the drive peaceful, and making Yuuri wish all the more that he was asleep right now.

Just as he started to nod off, Viktor said, “Mila and the others have a flight about an hour after ours, so we will probably be the first to arrive. At least we won’t have to deal with Yakov and Lilia’s fussing.” He said it fondly, and Yuuri spared a moment to think of the poor pair that had to corral their rowdy models every trip.

“Why aren’t they on the same flight as us?” Phichit asked, leaning forward between their seats.

“They’re riding first class. I usually have that kind of seating too, but _Yuuri_ kept refusing my offer to get him a seat with me.” Viktor pursed his lips in a pout. “I didn’t want a whole plane ride apart, so I switched my ticket for an economic class with him.”

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable!” Yuuri quickly defended. “The ride won’t even be that long, so there’s no point in it.”

Phichit raised his eyebrows. “The point of first class is to be nothing _but_ comfortable.”

“I just… I just thought it’d be better to save the money for when we explore the city, you know?” Yuuri hunched his shoulders sheepishly. “I’d rather that be the grander experience than just sitting in the air for a few hours.”

Viktor gave a reluctant sound, but Yuuri knew he was just being melodramatic. “I’ll have to buy you lots of things to make up for it then,” Viktor vowed, the smile coming back to his lips. He seemed more excited than before. “We’ll have to shop everywhere! Oh, there’s so many stores that I recommend! For instance, there’s…”

The car ride eventually shifted to checking in at the airport, where they met up with Celestino -- and Seung Gil, to their surprise and to Seung Gil’s irritation. He pretended not to notice them for a solid twenty minutes until he could no longer avoid Phichit’s attempts to chat with him.

At last, they were boarding the plane -- Yuuri and Viktor managed to get a seat together, with Celestino and Phichit just in front of them. Seung Gil, in the row across, put on his headphones and seemed adamant about sleeping.

As soon as they were seated, Yuuri settled his neck pillow around him and snuggled into his sweater, more than prepared to steal at least another hour of sleep. Viktor had been pretty high-energized through the morning; maybe he should stay up and keep him company? He was chatting with Phichit and Celestino at the moment though, and Yuuri was so tired…

He felt a weight on his shoulder when they got to cruising altitude. He roused, the scent of Viktor’s perfume stronger than before. When he glanced over, he could see that Viktor had lifted the arm-rest to settle against Yuuri’s side. With his tall frame, the position looked uncomfortable, and Yuuri shifted.

“Sorry, I was falling asleep.”

“No,” Viktor said, nuzzling against Yuuri’s shoulder more insistently. “Go ahead and sleep, _zvyozdochka_. We’re in for a long week.”

“You’re tired too?”

“Mmn…” A small smile played on his glossy lips. “I just want to cuddle. Even if it is on tiny, stiff economic seats.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, his nose scrunching to hide his own smile. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“I wanted to. Besides, you’re soft and warm enough to compensate.” Viktor kissed his cheek and returned to resting on his shoulder. Things were silent after that, but it only made the heat in Yuuri’s cheeks spread, and his heart to flutter. It was at moments like this that Yuuri remembered that Viktor had that same flutter in his chest as well, that he remembered the kisses that passed through the days lately -- that Viktor Nikiforov had, somehow, become his _boyfriend_.

He later opened Instagram when they landed to see that Phichit had tagged him in a photo -- a high-angled selfie to feature him and Celestino and even an unsuspecting Seung Gil, and then Yuuri and Viktor behind them, snuggling close and fast asleep.

It was then that Yuuri saw his being Viktor’s boyfriend in a new, terrifying light. This wasn’t something they could keep under wraps, especially on such a media-covered event like Fashion Week. Yuuri hadn’t even told anyone about his new relationship other than Phichit and Mari. Yuuko and Minako would definitely kill him if they found out through a candid photo of he and Viktor holding hands.

Yuuri didn’t know how celebrity relationships worked yet. Did it take a candid photo for them to be known? Did he or Viktor have to announce it on social media? Did Viktor even _want_ people to know about their relationship?

 _His dating life was always pretty separate from his professional one_ , Yuuri recalled as they waited around for their luggage to come around. _There was never a lot of coverage about his past boyfriends; I don’t even remember their names or faces._ Maybe that meant their relationship would be pretty low-key. Yuuri was stuck between being relieved and disappointed.

He started to muse over what this meant. _No kissing or hand-holding in public, probably. I’m a bit embarrassed to do that anyway… Can we go on dates?_

A more familiar train of thought returned to Yuuri as he stared down at Phichit’s Instagram post. Since most people had been long-time followers of Phichit, most of the comments were expressing excitement over his arrival to New York. Others sent a string of heart emojis over how cute Viktor and Yuuri looked asleep together. _It’s nothing bad,_ he noted. Phichit had been right; the incident a few weeks ago had blown over relatively quickly, as if it never happened. It relieved Yuuri, at any rate.

“Yuuri! Come on, let’s check into the hotel!” Viktor called him over, apparently having claimed Yuuri’s luggage as he daydreamed.

“Oh, my bad! Coming!” His mind clearer, he fell into step with Viktor and Phichit, the two of them chatting excitedly away. Viktor insisted on pulling Yuuri’s bag over his shoulder and pull the rolling case himself.

“The man who had all his things shipped here so he wouldn’t lift a finger wants to carry all my stuff?” Yuuri asked with a raised brow.

“If it’s for you, I will never mind carrying your baggage, Yuuri.” Viktor reached out to boop his nose.

It was such a casual thing to say, but it still gave Yuuri some pause. In the back of his mind, he thought,

_But would you let me carry yours too?_

* * *

 

Phichit dropped his bags at the same time that he dropped his jaw. Yuuri had to admit, he wasn’t far behind.

“It’s! _Huge_!!” Phichit yelled, already whipping out his phone as he zoomed into the suite. That left Yuuri and Celestino to nudge his bags in, both of them laughing under their breaths. Viktor lingered behind, looking amused with Phichit’s reaction.

“It’s like a house,” Yuuri said incredulously, stepping past the sofa and coffee table to gaze outside the pristine floor-to-ceiling windows. Even the view was amazing -- the morning sun peeked through the tight network of the city’s endless kaleidoscope of buildings, painting everything in glitter-gold.

Phichit dashed through the pair of rooms in the suite, exclaiming in glee. “Stammi Vicino is amazing!! I can’t believe we get rooms like these!” After he was satisfied with taking scenic photos, Phichit rushed to Yuuri’s side for a selfie. Yuuri, ready for Phichit, posed and held up a peace sign.

“One in the bedroom too! Oh, the balcony will have the perfect lighting~!” Phichit ushered them back and forth. He waved at the other men in the room. “Ciao-Ciao, Viktor, you too~!”

“Uh, no thanks, I’ll pass,” Celestino said, ducking his face out of range of Phichit’s camera.

“Phichit, you should check out the pool too, when you have the chance,” Viktor encouraged. “It’s quite divine and picturesque.”

“Also hey, don’t knock anything over,” Celestino said, still lugging both his and Phichit’s things further inside. “And pick a room, already. The others will be here in an hour.”

“Oh, right! Hey, after you two get settled, do you want to go out and sight-see?” Phichit turned his eyes on Yuuri again, full of excitement. “Oh, but I guess you and Viktor will want to go out by yourselves first, right?”

“We can do both,” Yuuri promised. “We have all week, after all.”

“But only one free day,” Viktor reminded. He nodded towards the door. “Come on, Yuuri, come on! Let’s go drop off your things and hit the streets!”

 _They’re like dogs off their leashes_ , Yuuri thought fondly. He hoped he’d have enough energy to go along with his best friend and boyfriend’s plans. After promising Phichit to text him with updates, Viktor led them a few floors higher up the hotel’s grand building to their own suite. While Phichit and Celestino were rooming with Stammi Vicino’s technical crew, the models were similarly rooming together.

Their suite was much the same as Phichit’s, with only a change in color palette, full of yellows and golds rather than the reds and roses. There were two bedrooms with two beds each, sofas and sleek desks, and a gorgeous, spacious balcony. It blew Yuuri’s mind all over again to see the suite, so different from the minimalistic and traditional rooms at his family’s inn.

“I’ve never stayed at a place like this before,” Yuuri said in awe, taking steps toward the steaming sunlight.

“A beautiful and romantic place, hmm?” Viktor came up behind him. Where Yuuri stood in front of the living room window, he could see their reflection in the daylit panes. Viktor wasn’t gazing at the scenery though; his eyes were focused right beside Yuuri.

Embarrassed, Yuuri could only nod. At glancing away, his eyes caught the corner of a case peeking out from one of the rooms. “Oh! Look, your luggage is here, after all. Oh god, did -- did you pack half your apartment!?” On closer inspection, the luggage piled high and wide, taking up a whole corner of the room that, indeed, would never have fit in Alejandro. It had to be more than could ever be necessary for a week-long trip where most of the things Viktor would be wearing was provided by Seung Gil’s designs.

“Oh, trust me, I need all of this,” Viktor said, looking proudly at his pile. “I can’t risk forgetting anything for one of the most important weeks of the year.”

“Or did you pack everything because you couldn’t decide what to wear? You’re surprisingly indecisive for a model,” Yuuri said, eyeing the pile.

Viktor waved his hand dismissively then grabbed Yuuri’s bags from his hands. “I’m _prepared_.” He put the bags beside his own luggage. “This will be our room then, Yuuri! It has the better view.” Viktor nodded to the window, the lacy curtains drawn back. “Yuri and Yakov can have the other one. Mila, Georgi, Sara, and Michele will be in another suite. I think Seung Gil and Lilia insisted on a single, as they do every year, haha. Now then! Ready to do some shopping?”

“Eh? What -- _now_!? No, wait, I look like garbage!” Yuuri dove for his bags and started to rummage around, pulling out a new outfit and his makeup case. When he was satisfied with his selections, he dashed to the bathroom -- took a moment to drink in the sheer space and shine of it -- and began his work at primping at the vanity.

Viktor came up behind him, his fingertips pressed against his amused smile, looking far too relaxed in contrast with Yuuri’s haste. “So even you get frantic about your appearance like this.”

“What do you mean ‘even me’?” Yuuri said, trying and failing to keep the petulance out of his voice. He started arranging his makeup on the marble counter.

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way, _lyubov moya_ ,” Viktor reassured. “But you always look so flawless and you’re so composed when you work on me that I didn’t expect that you panicked about how you looked when going out.”

Yuuri shook a tube of mascara at him. “It takes _work_ to look that flawless,” Yuuri retorted playfully. He kept his hair gel and lotion close. “You should know that more than anyone. Anyway, we’re going out in _New York City_ on the cusp of _Fashion Week_ . I’m going to be seen with _you_! I’m allowed to get frantic.”

Viktor came close as Yuuri dabbed moisturizer on his fingertips. He leaned in, planting a kiss against his temple. “I get it, _zvyozdochka_. But for the record,” he winked at their reflection in the mirror, “you’re flawless without even trying.”

Yuuri lowered the tube, and noted how his face grew palpably rosy. It was embarrassing because he could hear that Viktor meant it, which was more sincerity than Yuuri ever gave himself when it came to his appearance.

 _He does all this stuff so easily, so soon after we got together… I guess that’s the difference in our experience._ Yuuri thought about how much he wanted to gush such romantic lines to Viktor too, and his blush grew darker. _I hope I can get used to doing it too._

“Shut up, Mr. I-Woke-Up-This-Perfect,” he finally mumbled, bumping his hip against Viktor’s. “Go wait in the room, I’ll be just a sec.”

* * *

As soon as Yuuri was done getting ready, Viktor waltzed them out of the hotel to begin their shopping and sightseeing.

“Where would you like to go the most, Yuuri?” Viktor asked him. He was wearing a pair of stylish shades to not be immediately recognized. “We’re in the Upper East Side, so there’s tons of places we can visit that are close by. Oh, but we can go anywhere you’d like! Are you into parks and museums? Any store or landmark you really want to go to? Oh, I already have restaurants in mind for when we get hungry~”

Yuuri grew overwhelmed by the possibilities. “Uh, well, you’re the veteran,” he said, taking care to stay close to Viktor as they maneuvered the crowded streets. “How about you take me to your favorite places? I haven’t seen any of it, and I’m with you, so I’ll like it all.”

Viktor grinned. “Then let’s sight-see and shop at the same time! I’ll try to leave some things for you and Phichit to do later, but forgive me if I get carried away.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” Yuuri teased with a small laugh.

In the next second, Viktor clasped their hands together and led them further into the throng of people and cars streaming through the streets. Reflexively, Yuuri held on tight, not wanting to lose sight of Viktor’s platinum hair and back.

New York City was just as overstimulating as he expected it to be -- the people were loud on their phones and trying to attract customers to their stores, and the scent of both gourmet and street food was hitting them from all sides. Viktor expertly maneuvered them, stealing glances back at Yuuri every once in awhile with twinkling eyes.

An endless parade of shops greeted them at each street, all with colorful and expensive displays. And even though Yuuri knew he seriously couldn’t afford any of it, it didn’t stop him from gaping at everything. He tried not to stare too much though, because Viktor waltzed them into every store that caught Yuuri’s fancy without hesitation.

“I was just looking, really! We didn’t have to come in!” Yuuri said as an employee handed over a scarf he’d been eyeing to Viktor. It was of thin, light-blue material and obviously wouldn’t keep him warm, but the crystal snowflakes sparkling all over it had caught his attention.

“Don’t be silly, Yuuri,” Viktor insisted, and carefully wrapped the scarf around Yuuri’s neck. He arranged it to his liking and beamed happily. “I told you all that time ago, if you see something beautiful, why not try it?”

Yuuri lifted the scarf to cover the smile from his lips.

And so it continued; Viktor led them from one fashion boutique to the next, sharing stories with Yuuri about the designers or what he thought about the clothing. He seemed to know where all the secret shops with hard-to-find items were, and proudly showed off where Stammi Vicino’s lines were sold. Unsurprisingly, his flawless, glittering image was plastered all over those shops.

(“Yuuri, are you taking a picture of a picture? Of me?” “I-I’ve never seen this poster before! I just wanted to…” “Oh, Yuuri~ You really are my biggest fan~”)

Of course, he had to remain in even more lowkey since the employees would definitely be able to spot Viktor Nikiforov from a mile away. There wasn’t much for Yuuri to do in the shops admittedly, and though he liked looking at the clothes and accessories, he couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place. This was different than accompanying Viktor to a mundane mall to try on clothes or hang out -- everything was high-end and sparkly here, not to mention expensive. At the very least, he decided first to get souvenirs for Yuuko, Minako, and Mari. Other than that, he mostly stood near Viktor, and smiled and nodded at Viktor’s fashion praise and criticisms, and then he helped carry shopping bags when Viktor’s hands got full.

In the middle of gushing about a red leather coat, Viktor glanced over at Yuuri and he grew quiet.

Yuuri blinked. “What’s wrong?”

Viktor lowered the coat back onto its rack. Then, finally, the delight came back to his face. “I know! Come, let’s get out of here, Yuuri.”

“Huh? We just got in--”

“It’s fine! I just thought of a fun place to go next~” Viktor rearranged their bags so that he could take Yuuri’s hand again, and they left the boutique. Yuuri, slightly excited by Viktor’s usual impulsivity and enthusiasm, followed along without protest.

They flowed back onto the streets, but instead of going into another of the expensive stores lining the way, Viktor led them past all of it. In the close distance, Yuuri could see the glittery splendor of the buildings open up to a patch of soft, velvety green. When Yuuri realized where they were going, he made a small, “Oh!”

Viktor turned to him, his smile warm as he squeezed his hand.

Central Park was a lot bigger than Yuuri first thought it to be, and full of more activity than he expected. It was a bubble of green and openness amid the city’s concrete crowdedness. Plenty of families and friends and couples still occupied the park though, all chatting happily. Between the clusters of trees, Yuuri could make out fountains and outdoor theaters, playgrounds and the calm waters of the Lake. The scenery and attractions never seemed to end, and Yuuri’s gaze flitted this way and that to take it all in.

A small, amused laugh sounded next to him. Yuuri glanced at Viktor smiling at him. Even under the sunglasses, Yuuri could see the faint outline of Viktor’s eyes, and how they crinkled at the corners.

“What?”

“Nothing. You look cute. Like a little kid at a carnival.”

Yuuri ducked his head. “Look at everything else, not me.”

“Forgive me, I have a tendency to notice only the prettiest things.” Viktor ran his thumb slowly over the back of Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri held his breath to hold back his shiver.

“You think you’re so smooth,” he muttered petulantly.

“Are you not swooning?”

“...A little,” he admitted, cheeks growing unbearably hot. That was when he spotted a sign for one of the ice rinks and quickly went over to it. When he got close enough, the space was taken up by water instead of ice.

Viktor followed his gaze. “The ice rink doesn’t become skatable until it gets colder. Until then, it’s a pool. Did you want to swim?”

Yuuri laughed. “No way. I can’t swim.”

“You were birthed among hot springs,” Viktor protested, raising his eyebrows. They parted from the sign, walking along the Lake’s calm edge until they came to an arching bridge at the water’s narrow point. They walked close together over it and paused at the middle. Beneath them, gondolas littered the water, calmly rowing through the mirror-like surface.

“Can you skate?” Viktor eventually asked.

“A bit. Yuuko’s family used to own an ice rink.” Memories of clinging to his childhood friend and gliding through the ice on teetering feet swam through Yuuri’s mind.

“You’ll have to teach me when it gets cold again.”

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to be shocked. “Aren’t you Russian? Don’t you learn to skate before you walk?”

Viktor tried to look offended, but failed as he laughed. “Okay, _maybe_ , but it’s been quite some time since I visited for pleasure.” They stopped at the highest point of the bridge, then turned to look out at the twinkling water below them, framed by the trees growing reds and oranges for the fall.

Yuuri wondered what Viktor meant by not visiting Russia for pleasure. What about his family? _The family he never talks about and even the media hasn’t seen?_ Not that Yuuri or anyone knew what Viktor’s reasons were for that.

 _But doesn’t he ever miss it? All this traveling around the world, but I wonder where he considers home to be._ It was definitely something Yuuri wanted to ask Viktor about eventually. For now, he simply leaned closer until their shoulders touched.

Yuuri hummed. “It’s been awhile for me, too. I guess…we could go out to a rink sometime? Give ourselves a refresher together?” He imagined them gliding out onto the ice, the two of them holding hands just like this as they tried to keep their balance. Even if they fell, they’d only laugh.

Viktor lightly nudged against him. “Sounds like the perfect date.”

Yuuri smiled.

_That’s exactly what today feels like._

* * *

“We got so many great photos~,” Viktor said happily, scrolling through his camera roll. They’d left the park, and Viktor led the way to a restaurant for them to have lunch. Yakov and the others had already landed in New York and were making lunch plans of their own.

“Just make sure not to spam Instagram all at once,” Yuuri said. As an afterthought, he said, “Can you send some to me?”

“Of course! I’ll make an album and share it with you.” Viktor started pressing his thumb fervently over his phone, probably making said album right then and there.

Knowing that Viktor could easily get off-track, Yuuri looked down the unfamiliar streets and prompted, “Where are we going, by the way?”

“There’s several really good places that I know of. What’s your preference, and we can go from there.”

As they walked through the throng of people, shopkeepers continued to try and attract customers to visit their shops. One was to a building that advertised several fast-food restaurants inside it, and from outside Yuuri could sniff out the tantalizing scent of melted cheese and tomato sauce. Without thinking, he wandered over, and Viktor called his name curiously.

“Here,” Yuuri said, pointing inside the building. “Let’s go in here.”

Viktor looked surprised that Yuuri was choosing an ordinary pizzeria over the no-doubt fancy restaurants he had in mind, but eventually, a warm smile returned to his lips. He followed Yuuri and said, “Whatever you’d like, _zvyozdochka_.”

The building had a level below it, where underground restaurants were lined along the edges of the walls -- bars, crepes, sushi and pizzerias. Yuuri made a beeline for the latter, and Viktor followed him without question, seemingly happy to be led along by Yuuri.

They ended up ordering a slice each, the pizzas huge enough to nearly cover the whole plate. They sat across from each other around one of the couple’s tables, their shopping bags puddled at their feet. Yuuri bit into his slice enthusiastically, just realizing that he hadn’t had a proper breakfast and now he was utterly famished from all their adventuring through the city. Viktor stifled a small, amused laugh at him as he bit into his own pizza.

“I should have known better,” Viktor said around a long string of melted cheese. “It’s not really a New York experience until you’ve had the pizza here.”

Yuuri hummed in agreement, unable to say anything around his own bite. But the cheese went on forever, and Yuuri gave up on being able to break it off. The two ended up breaking into laughter as they stretched the pizza’s goodness an arm’s length away but the cheese refused to break from their lips. It was the most un-modellike behavior, but Viktor still took another photo for his Instagram story with them just like that.

“I’m so glad,” Viktor eventually said, once they were finally down to their crusts and dipping them in marinara sauce.

“About what?” Yuuri said, although there was a smile on his lips as well.

Viktor gave him a look like Yuuri was the most gorgeous being in the world, even with all the grease and tomato sauce staining the corners of his mouth and chin. “That you’re having fun,” he finally said. “I was worried that I wouldn’t give a good impression of New York, or that you wouldn’t have a good time.”

Yuuri swallowed down the bite of crust and raised his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? I told you, Viktor, I’ll have loads of fun as long as I’m with you.”

Viktor seemed pleased to hear it. If he were Makkachin, Yuuri would’ve surely seen his tail wag excitedly. “I haven’t shown you nearly half the things I wanted to, though. If we had more time, I would’ve loved to take you shopping more, or visit the Statue of Liberty, or take you to a Broadway show. God, I didn’t even let you see Time Square.”

Amused at Viktor’s franticness, Yuuri brushed his shoes against Viktor’s. “It’s fine. I don’t have to see all the grand stuff. I mean, this was…” He rolled his lips between his teeth, his cheeks growing warm again. “This was, like… Our first date, right?”

After a small pause, Viktor’s features softened. He reached out and took Yuuri’s hand across the table. “We’ve been really busy lately, haven’t we? This indeed would make today our first proper date.”

“I had fun,” Yuuri said. _He’s holding my hand. It tingles. It feels so warm._ “I mean, I’m still having fun!”

“I’m glad, _lyubov moya_ ,” Viktor murmured, rubbing his thumb along Yuuri’s knuckles. The heat continued to burn Yuuri’s cheeks.

After a long minute of basking in Viktor’s touch and his gaze of adoration, Yuuri said through a short laugh, “What does that mean, anyway?”

“What does what mean?” Viktor tilted his head.

“That...thing you called me,” Yuuri said helplessly. “You know I can’t repeat it. What you called me.”

Viktor feigned innocence, pretending to think over the matter heavily. Only when Yuuri lightly nudged against his ankles with an impatient grunt did Viktor give in with a grin, “ _Lyubov moya?_ It means ‘my love’.”

Yuuri had to try very hard to suppress the dumbfounded whimper in his throat. Oh. If he remembered correctly, Viktor only started calling him that after they kissed -- after they established that they were going out. He ran his own thumb distractedly over the back of Viktor’s hand. His skin was so smooth and soft. Yuuri watched in embarrassment as he smeared grease over it.

“Oh. You’re going to have to translate every new thing you call me.”

“Of course,” Viktor agreed with pleasure.

Yuuri fumbled to think of cute things he could call Viktor in Japanese, but his mother tongue was far too humble to have anything to call anyone less than a lover or married partner. A few things came to mind, but he concluded that anything he thought up would be way too soon, or just downright embarrassing. Instead, he settled for quietly saying under his breath, “ _Suki_.”

Viktor perked up at the foreign word. “Hmm?”

Yuuri focused intensely down at their linked hands. “ _Suki_. Um… I like you,” he finally murmured.

Viktor positively beamed. Even under his sunglasses, Yuuri swore he could see the sparkles of his beautiful blue eyes. “ _Suki_ ,” he said, the syllables rolling experimentally off of his tongue. With more confidence, he said, “Yuuri, _suki_.”

The sound was a bit heavier than it would be off of a native’s tongue, but nonetheless, Yuuri felt like melting to the floor at hearing Viktor’s beautiful voice sound out the Japanese word.

Catching onto Yuuri’s reaction Viktor gave a small, amused laugh. “Our relationship will get very interesting if we keep saying secret things to each other in our mother tongues. Just promise that it’ll only be sweet things.”

With his own laugh, Yuuri continued to brush his thumb over Viktor’s hand. “Only if you do the same.”

“Deal,” Viktor said, picking up his remaining crust with his free hand. “You know, that day at the parking lot, after I cut your hair… I said I loved you.”

Yuuri, in the middle of dipping his own crust in sauce, froze and glanced up. “You -- said what?” Even as he asked it though, he could clearly remember the foreign words Viktor had murmured to him, strong and resolute. Even if he hadn’t known what the words were, Yuuri had felt like he understood their meaning deep in his heart.

And now, here Viktor was, confirming it. He looked over at Yuuri over the frames of his sunglasses. “I had said I loved you. That I love you very much.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed. Instead of coming up with something smooth or romantic to say, he instead curled his hand slightly away from Viktor. He couldn’t help it; it was a reflex from the unwavering look Viktor gave him, from the steady love in his words.

“ _I love you very much.”_

Luckily -- or not -- Viktor sensed the slight tension and removed his hand. Nonetheless, quietly, Yuuri heard him murmur again,

“ _Suki_.”

Eventually, the sun began to duck down behind the buildings. New York City began to glow with its own spectacle of lights, dotting the horizon and dancing colors over the cement and people’s faces. When they left the underground pizzeria, Yuuri found himself captivated by how the blues and whites lit up Viktor’s delicate and sharp features. Even in the busy, loud streets of the Big Apple, Viktor was gorgeous. Yuuri had to squeeze their hands together to remind himself -- this was his partner, the man who chose to be together with him.

And Yuuri chose him, too. There wasn’t anyone he ever wanted more than Viktor.

_That’s why… He deserves better than what I’ve been giving him._

With a deep breath, Yuuri made a decision.

When they got back to the hotel room, Yakov, Yuri and the others were still out. Viktor turned to Yuuri with a smile.

“Guess we have the place to ourselves.”

“I guess we do,” Yuuri agreed awkwardly. Phichit had texted him about two hours before, saying he was already out exploring the local sites with Celestino and the others -- he even managed to kidnap Seung Gil, by the look of his Snapchat story. Yuuri would rather not interrupt their fun, and texted back promising that they’d have at least one tourist date before the end of the week. Yuuri, already quite tired from both the plane ride and Viktor taking him shopping through half of New York, was relieved to finally put all the bags down and be able to kick off his shoes and collapse on top of the bed.

Viktor already had his shirt unbuttoned when he leaned over Yuuri’s half-asleep form. Soft lips pressed tenderly against Yuuri’s temple.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay. I’ll be here, probably asleep.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Viktor’s throat. He pressed another kiss on Yuuri, this time on the corner of his lips. “Alright. Just don’t forget to wipe your makeup off, _zvyozdochka_.”

The warmth retreated from Yuuri’s tired body, much to his disappointment. If he had his way, he’d just cuddle against Viktor’s chest, arms around him until he fell deep asleep. Instead, he laid in bed as the light roar of the shower sounded in the bathroom, the door left half-open. Yuuri opened his eyes, just able to make out the shower curtains and the blurry blob of Viktor’s naked body. His heart skipped a beat.

He was right here, sharing a hotel room with Viktor Nikiforov.

 _My boyfriend_. Yuuri let the word settle in as he listened to the sounds of Viktor showering while singing along horribly with some Russian pop song playing on his phone. Without realizing, Yuuri smiled at the sound, snuggling closer into his pillow.

This time last year, Viktor had still just been the man that Yuuri had posters of plastering his room, nothing more. He took a moment to think of the last few months again, of all the laughs and drama that happened between him and Viktor to reach this moment.

Of course, what wasn’t lost to Yuuri was the interview incident, but also little things that happened before and after it; behaviors of Yuuri that he was all-too-aware of, but had done nothing to change all his life. Laying here, in a hotel room that he was sharing with Viktor, his boyfriend in the other room showering, Yuuri became acutely aware of the person he was, from an objective standpoint. Embarrassment and shame grew in his chest at the memories.

The shower cut off, but Viktor continued to sing in the bathroom for at least another half-hour. Yuuri eventually got up, wiping off his makeup with some wipes before Viktor finally emerged from the rolling steam inside the bathroom. By that time, Yuuri had changed into more comfortable clothes.

Viktor came out dressed in nothing more than one of the fluffy white bathrobes, still scrubbing a towel against his hair. He smiled at Yuuri, droplets of water in his hair dripping down his jawline.

“You sure took your time. What were you doing?”

“I have a routine, Yuuri,” Viktor replied with a short huff. He patted over his cheeks. “Isn’t my skin just glowing now~? Feel it, feel it, it’s so smooth~”

Yuuri reached out to feel over Viktor’s jawline. “Ohh. That is nice.” He thought again of the kiss on the cheek he never gave Viktor that morning, but again, he only withdrew back to the bed.

“Want to go in next, Yuuri?”

“Ah, I’ll wait a bit.” Yuuri gave a small laugh, curling his knees close to his chest. “I think I’m addicted to how soft this bed is. God, it’s like a cloud, it’s amazing.”

“Oh?” Viktor raised a brow. He walked past his own bed, climbing onto Yuuri’s. The mattress was so plush that Viktor’s weight hardly interfered with Yuuri’s own comfort. Soon enough, Viktor had settled onto the bed, laying his head against one of the neighboring pillows, directly facing Yuuri. Yuuri followed the wet strands of Viktor’s silvery hair, tracing the wet droplets down his jawline and neck, and even further down to where the robe opened up to reveal his collarbone and slight cleavage of his chest. _He looks so soft..._

“You’re right,” Viktor agreed. “It’s really comfortable.”

“Don’t fall asleep before your hair is dry,” Yuuri said. “It’d be awful if you showed up to the first day of Fashion Week with split ends.”

Viktor made an exaggerated gasp. “Don’t even joke about that, Yuuri!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Yuuri rose up from the mattress. “Want me to blow-dry your hair?”

The sparkle returned to Viktor’s eyes. It was the same look he got whenever it was time for Yuuri to do his makeup. “Okay~!” He got up, maneuvering to the vanity inside the bathroom.

The mirror was pretty wide, with round lights illuminating the top. Viktor grabbed a chair from the desk in the living room and sat it in front of the mirror. The hotel room came with a hairdryer, and Yuuri tested the heat against the palm of his hand before using it against Viktor’s gossamer hair. He caressed the soft strands against his palm as he ran the heated air through it, stirring up the fall of Viktor’s hair. All the while, Viktor’s expression was incredibly pleased and relaxed. Several times, Yuuri swore he was nodding off as he dried his hair. Yuuri smiled, reminded slightly of the day that he and Viktor had made up, and he had caressed and cut Yuuri’s hair.

“Feel relaxed, do you?” he teased.

Viktor gave a small moan. “Very.”

“You’re lucky I like spoiling you,” Yuuri retorted, though his tone was soft. Honestly, he did love to lavish Viktor in these forms of love. These actions didn’t require words, which Yuuri was no good at.

Tonight though, Yuuri knew he couldn’t leave it just like that.

Soon enough, Viktor’s hair was dry, and the two of them crawled right back into bed. Yuuri thought about turning on the TV, but decided that he liked the sound of Viktor’s steady breath into his hair better. He snuggled close, relishing the feel of Viktor’s arms curling around his waist. Viktor smelled like soap -- not the hotel’s vanilla one, but something rosy. _He probably brought his own bath things; that explains the bag that was on the counter._

“Your breath _tickles_ , Yuuri,” Viktor said with a small laugh.

Yuuri nuzzled even closer against Viktor’s chest. God, he wished he could pepper it in kisses. “Sorry. You just smell really nice.”

“I might’ve splurged a bit on my last Lush trip.”

His comment made Yuuri make an undignified snorting sound, but Viktor laughed again too, squeezing his waist.

“Sorry I kidnapped you for most of the day,” Viktor said into his hair.

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not. I love monopolizing you too much.” Several kisses pressed at the top of Yuuri’s head, then lower to his forehead. Viktor was big on kissing and physical intimacy -- not that Yuuri hadn’t known that before, but the touches had definitely increased since their first actual kiss behind the runway. They definitely made Yuuri feel loved, and yet… A worry surfaced, that this would be one of many things that Viktor would give him and Yuuri wouldn’t be able to reciprocate in equal measure.

 _But I love you_ , Yuuri thought as Viktor’s hand ran down the base of his spine. _I love you more than anyone else, more than I thought I could love a person._

Quiet settled in the room. Yuuri’s chest fluttered with nerves, but he knew he had to do this. This was one thing he couldn’t keep silent about and just hope would go away, or that Viktor would just _know_ what he was thinking. He couldn’t keep being that unfair.

Rubbing his ankle against one of Viktor’s, he murmured, “There’s...something you should know about me. Before we get too far together.”

“What is it?” Viktor sounded worried. The hand on Yuuri’s back froze, then flew away. “Oh, I wasn’t going to-- I would ask you first if you wanted that, Yuuri, I swear--”

“What? No! Oh, no.” Yuuri shook his head. “Not _that_.”

Visibly, Viktor relaxed. “Ah. Good.” He licked his lips, settling back into the pillows to directly face Yuuri. “Tell me.”

Yuuri felt too cold. Already? His body seemed to go bloodless when he was getting ready to do something scary. The first sign of nerves -- he’d probably start shaking soon, but he took a steady, bracing breath.

“Well, actually… First of all, I want to say… I’m sorry.”

Viktor frowned. “Whatever for, _zvyozdochka_?”

“For me. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve been ever since you’ve gotten to know me, with the running away, with the crying… I know I do it a lot. At really bad times. Times when I need you the most, or you need me the most.”

“You’re not a mess, Yuuri--”

“No. Don’t do that.” Yuuri shook his head. “I _know_ I’m a mess -- and I’m not saying it in a self-deprecating way. It’s just something I’m aware of about myself. I’m… I’m still trying to figure out how to fix it.” Ah, there was the shaking. Yuuri urged himself to remain grounded. He had to make sure that Viktor _understood_. “That’s why, I guess, I want to say this. If you want to keep being with me, the way I panic, or ignore you, can happen a lot more in the future too. It’s...just my anxiety.”

The frown on Viktor’s brow deepened. That wasn’t good, Yuuri thought distantly, he’d get wrinkles. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Oh. Yuuri had met a few people in his life who had no idea about this kind of thing. It made it awkward to talk about, but it also gave Yuuri a bit more control to be as informative as he could while brushing away any misconceptions or stigmas Viktor might have heard.

“Feeling anxious,” he said simply. “Except, it happens a lot more to me than other people. Which is why sometimes, I’m pretty...closed off.” That was putting it mildly, he knew. He knew he came off as rude or cold because of how he avoided and brushed away interactions with people. It was a miracle that Phichit had broken through his walls. But the less interactions, the better. The less people he knew, the less expectations they’d have of him. The less people he got to know, the less chances there were of them realizing he _wasn’t enough_.

_That’s why… If you tell me you love me so sincerely -- I get that sudden impulse, fighting over pulling you closer or pushing you away._

Viktor processed the words with a thoughtful expression. His eyebrows rose in recognition. “Oh. Like you don’t like talking to people.”

“Uhh,” Yuuri laughed a bit, patting Viktor’s arm, “I mean, I _do_ get socially anxious sometimes, but that’s not the root of my problem. I just…” He tried searching for the words. He only really got this far in conversation about his mental weaknesses with Minako, and she’d been the one to finally give a name to his behaviors in the first place.

“I overthink how people see me,” he finally said. “I… I feel like my worldview is only condensed to how I think other people view me. I compare myself to them over the dumbest things -- how they act, how they talk, how they look. How much more skilled they are than me. I feel like I set these ideals for myself of how hard I need to work in order to be on the same par as others but… It’s like I’m setting the bar higher and higher and even when I know I’m good at something, I just can’t ever stop thinking, _You could be better_. It’s a back and forth mess that I don’t want people to see. So I put myself under the radar.”

_I can’t reach those ideals._

When Yuuri dared to look up, he swore he could see those words echoed with perfect empathy in Viktor’s eyes, like he understood this feeling well. Viktor actually glanced away, as Yuuri had done so many times when he’d been afraid people would see his thoughts and anxieties like an open book.

“I see. That...certainly explains a lot. Why you believed you never belonged with us. With me. Even though out of everyone, I had only seen you. Mila, too. Everyone.”

Yuuri hummed. “When I kept thinking about being Viktor Nikiforov’s make-up artist, about being his _boyfriend…_ I panicked. There was no way that I could possibly measure up, and then that interviewer said all the things that scared me most…” His vision began to swim a little despite himself, and he cut off his words so that the wobble in his voice couldn’t be heard.

Gradually, Viktor’s hand met his, and he squeezed.  “I understand what you’re telling me. But… It’s not fair that you got to decide that for me, Yuuri. _Everyone_ gets to decide for me. But the only one who knows what is good enough for me, what things I love the most, is me.”

“I know,” Yuuri whispered. “I know that _now_. I put both of us against these...really ridiculous expectations. And it made a lot of things bad for us. And then I just run away or ignore things when it becomes too much. I get mad at you over stupid things. But I’m… I’m really tired of feeling these things, and hurting myself and the people I care about.”

How many times had he made things worse by not talking about it? By not letting himself be vulnerable? By just not admitting that, yes, he was weak, and he just wanted some support, someone to believe in him a bit while he tried to stand up and _fight_ for once?

Yuuri licked the salty tears from his lips. “It’s not -- it’s not going to go away overnight, or even over a year maybe, but I just...”

 _Please don’t leave me._ He never told a partner about this before. It didn’t seem relevant. He convinced himself it didn’t matter. This was a level of vulnerability he’d never allowed himself to risk.

_I really do want to get better, and I’m going to try, so please..._

“I’m not going anywhere, Yuuri,” Viktor said, snuggling closer.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered. “I’m sorry that I’m like this. I’m sorry for all I did and said that hurt your feelings. All the blame I shifted to you in our fight. That wasn’t okay.”

After a moment, Viktor murmured, “We already discussed all of that. So it’s okay. I appreciate your words, Yuuri. Just...just please promise to not push me away again. If you really need it, I’ll give you space, but...”

Yuuri nodded. “Yes. I… I’ll do my best to explain it to you when I feel bad.” _Of all the people I’ve hurt because I pushed them away, I don’t want you to disappear too._ He hugged Viktor, burying his face against his collarbone. “I know this was silly, but I just wanted to tell you this about me. To explain things and apologize.”

“It’s not silly, Yuuri,” Viktor quietly reassured. “And actually, I’m so, so happy that you trusted me enough to tell me about this.” Viktor kissed Yuuri’s temple, then shifted down to reach his cheek and jawline, then his lips. “All I want to do is to understand what you're thinking and feeling more, just like you said you wanted to do with me. No matter what happens, we’ll just get through it together.”

Yuuri’s lips quivered with a relieved smile. He loved Viktor. He loved him so _much_ . “The same goes for you, you know. I don’t want...this,” he gestured awkwardly to himself, “to change what you think about me, or make you treat me delicately or whatever. I’m going to be here for you too now. More than anything, I want to stand by you.” _To be your equal_. “So you can tell me anything. Rely on me.”

He wondered if the words sounded pathetic, or meaningless, after such a discussion about his anxiety, after revealing his glass heart.

Maybe he listened to his head too much. But he’d stood up this long in his life, so he could definitely grow to support Viktor too.

No, he _definitely_ wanted to grow to have that kind of strength.

Viktor laughed softly, brushing back Yuuri’s bangs. “Why do you have an expression like you’re determined to fight a war for me?”

“Because I would!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Oooh, Yuuri! So manly! Do you have some samurai moves that I’m unaware of?” Viktor gripped him tight in a hug, making Yuuri burst into half-sobbing laughter as Viktor nuzzled into his ticklish sides. They wriggled around on the bed in a cuddly bundle until they settled, Viktor resting his head on Yuuri’s stomach while Yuuri ran his fingers through the silk of Viktor’s hair.

After a moment of quiet, Viktor murmured, “Hey, Yuuri, while we’re opening up…” He gave a long pause, and it wasn’t until Yuuri reached further down to stroke his shoulders that he finally continued. “I’ve been thinking for a while… That maybe this industry did more to me than I thought. I don’t know if I was always like this or what, but…”

Yuuri listened. Viktor had that solemn note to his voice, like he had the day they patched things up, talking in the car on top of the garage.

“I love being a model, Yuuri. I really do. I love the people I meet, the places I get to see, the beautiful clothes I get to wear… But I can’t pretend I’m the same starry-eyed teenager I was when I first started. I do...so much to escape the clock.” Viktor laughed bitterly. “I’m sure you saw the obscene number of skin and anti-aging creams and oils I have in my bathroom. It’s...insane how many beauty routines I go through to erase flaws and keep up my appearance to be as glamorous as possible.”

Yuuri remembered that. When he’d slept over at Viktor’s and was trying to search for makeup wipes, most of the bathroom was disorganized and a bit messy, but the cabinet next to the mirror was neat and organized with a line of beauty products.

“The things you were talking about right now… With the ideals, measuring up… I don’t think I have your anxiety,” he quickly said, like it was something he needed to reassure Yuuri, even though Yuuri knew this was a conversation he would support Viktor fully in, no matter his conclusions.

After all, he recognized this hesitation, this realization, and it broke Yuuri’s heart to suddenly see Viktor’s cheeks grow pink with shame. His gaze darted around as he fumbled through his words. “It didn’t make me overthink; it almost felt like the opposite. Like...horrible, grey silence, on the inside and outside. I just -- laid on the floor thinking about it. I couldn’t even cheer up when Makkachin came.”

That sounded horribly familiar to Yuuri as well. Long days, even weeks of it -- _depression_. Viktor had been a model for years; who knew how long he’d had these feelings, or if they were present before his career started. He recalled when Viktor last opened up to him, how tense he sounded when he talked about cutting his hair, about always moving too fast to be his own person. Everything was making more and more sense. Yuuri started to run his fingers through Viktor’s hair again.

“This is the kind of thing I’d help you fight a war for,” he said quietly, trying to get back Viktor’s smile; not only to bring light-heartedness back, but also to reassure his boyfriend.

This man was his partner now. Yuuri would rather die than ever let him think he was in this alone.

When Viktor finally looked up, his eyes and smile were watery, his cheek smushed against Yuuri’s stomach. “You’re far more kind and beautiful than you think you are.”

“And you’re far more strong and beautiful than you think you are,” Yuuri returned, stroking the side of Viktor’s face. “You can tell me whenever you feel depressed, or if the pressure of everything is getting to be too much. It doesn’t matter if you did it alone up until now. I’m… I’m your ears and arms now, Viktor. Be it in the dressing room or in bed just like this, away from everybody…”

“...Thank you,” Viktor said after a long silence, voice trembling like his body. “Thank you, Yuuri. I thought I had to… I thought you’d think I was silly...”

“Never. Not for this. I understand,” Yuuri said. He was smiling, but the tears continued to swim in his eyes. “And thank you, too. For sticking with me.”

 _I’m here now_ , was the unspoken vow.

Viktor sniffed, scrubbing at his face. “You’re _crying_.”

“So are you!” Yuuri said, voice watery. At the same time, they let out a tired huff of laughter, shifting to cradle each other in a tight hug.

How ridiculous and wonderful was this feeling?

Eventually, they de-tangled themselves long enough for Yuuri to reluctantly get up and take a shower. He stayed close to the wall, slightly flushed with embarrassment when Viktor came in as well to dab cold water over his cried-out eyes so that they wouldn’t be swollen tomorrow.

“Sorry I made you cry,” Yuuri called over the spray of water.

Viktor chuckled. “I’m sorry that you had to see it. I’m an ugly crier, aren’t I?” There was a twinge of self-consciousness in his voice, some of his old fears of being caught so vulnerable resurfacing.

“I’ve never seen you cry before,” Yuuri confessed. “But you can do it around me.” For some odd reason, when he thought again of the tears clinging to Viktor’s long, silvery lashes, the tremble of his lips. It was a sad, terrible sight for sure, and yet -- _he’s still so pretty._

Yuuri made sure that Viktor was out of the bathroom before turning the shower off and quickly grabbing a robe for himself. When he came out into the bedroom, Viktor had changed into more casual wear for the night, and he looked away from the TV to meet Yuuri’s form. He whistled low.

“Hotel robes are sexy on you.”

Yuuri cleared his throat, closing the robe more over his chest. “I think I’m going to unpack a bit.” The drawers under the huge flatscreen looked wide enough to accomodate Yuuri’s things. Viktor could have whatever space was left, plus the rather roomy closet.

He started with the things in his bags, putting aside an outfit to change into. Their shopping bags sat in a corner of the room, about ten in all, but only two of them and the smallest ones were Yuuri’s -- a souvenir for Yuuko and Mari. He figured he’d be able to find something for Minako during the actual fashion event.

“Come on, Viktor,” Yuuri said. “You should try making a dent in unpacking, too.”

Viktor groaned, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, Yuuri, I know where everything is.”

“Yes, but your clothes are going to get all wrinkled if you leave them in the cases,” Yuuri pointed out. “At least put aside all your shopping bags.”

At that, Viktor perked up. “Oh! Great idea, actually.” He rolled off the bed and started opening the bags, putting aside the clothes and accessories he bought. When he grabbed the last one, the bag sleek and red, he turned to Yuuri with a satisfied smile and held it out. “Don’t put your clothes on yet. This one is for you.”

“Huh? What?” Yuuri stared in shock at the offering. When had Viktor gotten him something without him knowing? Which store was this from, again? Unsure, he took the bag, looking into the puddle of gold tissue paper inside.

“What, um... What is it?”

“Open it and see!” Viktor encouraged. “And try it on, I want to test a theory.”

 _Try it on?_ Protests sat on Yuuri’s tongue, even as he backed slowly away into the bathroom. He made sure to close the door behind him. The bag was placed on the vanity, and Yuuri opened up his robe. Viktor told him to put it on, so it was probably clothes. How did he know Yuuri’s size? It didn’t seem like the stores they went to had anything for his body type in mind. It was like being in Viktor’s closet again, where everything was just a size too small.

 _This could either be a really good idea or a really bad idea._ But it was Fashion Week; Yuuri might be behind the scenes a lot, but even he could get carried away a bit and dress up, right? With that thought in mind, he removed the tissue-paper and pulled out something soft and flowing, like water had somehow been encapsulated in fabric.

Yuuri held the outfit out, staring in awe at the intricate network of detail, and the material of the fabric flowing over his hands.

 _Is he serious?_ Yuuri fumbled to look for a price tag or receipt, but there was nothing else.

With a deep breath, Yuuri looked again at the outfit. Then, after a moment of contemplation, he let the bathrobe fall from his shoulders.

* * *

On bare feet, Yuuri quietly slipped out of the bathroom. Viktor had been calling his name, clearly excited to see how the ensemble he picked out would look on Yuuri. Slightly self-conscious, Yuuri stepped into view, giving Viktor a small smile.

“Uh… So, how does it look? I can’t really pull it off, can I?”

“Yuuri, you…”

Viktor had given him a suit-like outfit, one that Yuuri could remember from Stammi Vicino’s line from just last year. The top was a plum shirt under a midnight-blue jacket, the tail running down the back of Yuuri’s legs like a high-low skirt. Tiny gold rhinestones were splashed over the fabric like they were stars. The front was cinched in a unique fashion, twisted into a sewn-in belt of tight-knit mesh that went from Yuuri’s sides all the way to his back, exposing his skin there. Artfully placed all over the back were hundreds more tiny rhinestones, in reds and greens that created an elaborate design similar to a fleur de lis. A pair of dark-blue pants came with the jacket, and to Yuuri’s relief and amazement, everything seemed to fit properly.

It made him feel...nice. Beautiful. It was like putting on Viktor’s dress -- the simple act of putting on pretty clothes to _feel_ pretty.

Viktor rose up from the bed, walking over to Yuuri with stunned eyes. His lips were slightly parted, like he was lost for words. The expression was hilariously similar to what Yuuri remembered his reaction to be when he tried on Viktor’s dress.

“You, uh… You like it?” A bit more confident, Yuuri lowered his arms from where he’d been hugging his soft middle.

“Like it? You really are a little star in this,” Viktor praised. He reached out, smoothing the fabric over Yuuri’s arms and lightly sweeping his bangs back. His palm cradled Yuuri’s cheek. His eyes were shining. “You look _beautiful_ , darling. It’s like Seung Gil made it especially for you.”

Heat filled Yuuri’s cheeks. “Thanks. Is -- is this really for me?”

“Of course!”

“You didn’t have to get me anything though, Viktor, especially since I -- I don’t have anything for you. God, how much did this _cost_? There’s no way that I can--”

“Yuuri, Yuuri, you worry too much.” Viktor pursed his lips, booping his forehead until Yuuri stopped frowning. “It’s just a present, Yuuri, really, and I thought the outfit would suit you.”

Yuuri lowered his eyes. He wasn’t used to being given things like this, but… He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, adoring the glitter and color spilling over his back. “I -- I really _do_ like it.”

“Good. Never doubt your charm, darling. Are you forgetting that you made my _bed sheets_ look like a designer outfit?” Viktor kissed his forehead. “You can wear it tomorrow. With an ensemble like this, with your handsome face, people will be shocked and disappointed that you’re not one of the models.”

Embarrassed but nonetheless preening a bit at the praise, Yuuri placed his hands on Viktor’s hips. “As if. They’ll be too busy staring at you. And anyway,” he tilted his head up, confidence suddenly burning in his chest, “as long as your eyes are on me, I don’t really care about the rest.”

And Viktor _gasped_ at that, breath stolen. The blue of his eyes began to be highlighted by his own bright-pink  blush. “ _Yuuri_ ,” he said.

Yuuri circled his arms behind Viktor’s neck, bringing him close for a kiss. Viktor didn’t miss a beat in embracing Yuuri’s waist, his warm hands felt through the mesh over Yuuri’s back. It sent a small shiver down his spine as they shared in several more kisses, their mouths parting just enough for their tongues to play around.

"Let's do our best during this week, Yuuri," Viktor said, breath hot against his lips.

The corner of Yuuri's lips quirked up. "No. Let's _be_ the best. That runway is ours, Viktor."

Viktor's eyes lit up with a determined, almost gold, shine. Yuuri knew from the feeling bursting in his heart that that shine was mirrored in his own eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way!! I've finally made the spotify playlist for this fic!!  
> The first half of the playlist is in order of the songs I used for the published chapters so far. Everything else is mood music. I hope y'all enjoy it; I'll keep adding songs as we go on. Also, literally the only song spotify didn't have is the fic's title, "Afterglow," smh smh. Anyway! [Listen to it here!!](https://open.spotify.com/user/pumpkinhearted/playlist/1uBBhCPgzxV8K3Tebs1T1Y?si=KEZAmeqsSISG64Z63PjLMg)


	14. for you i would lose both of my shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thank you once again for being patient with updates! This one was a lot of fun to write, I watched a lot of vlogs about NYFW for research and hhhh I wish I could travel the world and go to fashion shows... Until then, I'll live vicariously through vlogs and fics. I also finally got good inspiration for Viktor's outfits through pictures of BTS. I actually know nothing about BTS but their style is so *Pacha "just right" meme*
> 
> Huge thanks to my A+ beta, Kaden, for making this chapter super sparkly!! Ilu!!
> 
> Chapter title is from "Cinderella" by Diana Vickers.

There was never a moment of quiet for Stammi Vicino, and that was twice as true after a night of listening to New York’s lively nightlife and traffic, even when Yuuri and the others were lodging so many stories up. Yuuri woke up feeling half-rested and shuffled groggily to the suite’s kitchen to make some coffee. Around him, everyone was already bright-eyed and bushy-tailed -- Yakov and Lilia were speaking into their phones, and Yuri was at the doorway talking with Mila.

Viktor was also in the kitchen, cradling his own cup of coffee. When he saw Yuuri, he came around and kissed his cheek. “Morning, _lyubov moya._ ” He reached for the pot of coffee and held it out.

Yuuri gratefully offered his mug and Viktor filled it up. “Morning. You should’ve woken me up if everyone was already up and about. I feel super underdressed right now.” He glanced at Viktor, who was already well-dressed and had his bangs combed to the side.

“What do you mean? You work the I-just-woke-up look,” Viktor teased. “Besides, you kept waking up, didn’t you? You should get as much sleep as possible.”

Yuuri started to stir in some creamer, chasing away his dumb fantasy of waking up cuddled right next to a sleeping Viktor. They’d decided to share a bed since the mattresses were big enough and Yuuri had blissfully fallen asleep cradled in Viktor’s embrace. Blushing behind his mug of coffee, Yuuri went to the sofa and drank up as Viktor left to discuss something with Yakov.

Remembering that there had been a notification on his phone when he woke up, he took his phone out and checked his messages.

 

**From: Minako**

_My flight leaves in an hour! I’ll be seeing you real soon kiddo ✈_

 

Yuuri stared dumbfoundedly at his phone for a good minute before setting his mug down to frantically type out a reply. That was, until he saw that Minako’s message had been sent a good hour and a half ago. She’d be in the air by now, if her text was to be believed.

“What’s with the frown, piggy, did you accidentally open up selfie mode and see your ugly mug?” Yuri came up behind him, swinging his long legs over the back of the sofa to plop down next to Yuuri.

“Morning to you too,” Yuuri said, scooching over to make room for the teenager. “No, I just got a text from my teacher, she said she’s on the way to New York right now...”

“Oh! Is Minako coming?” Viktor took a seat on the other side of Yuuri, cuddling right next to his side to take a look at his phone. Yuuri made room for him too.

“Well, she used to do work with models like I do now. Except she’s way more amazing, she got to go all over the world and meet a bunch of people.” He smiled as he recalled all the stories she used to tell him when he was still a starry-eyed kid.

Viktor tilted his head. “I remember you mentioning that. To be honest, I’ve kind of wondered why she didn’t introduce you to anyone in the industry before? We could’ve met so much sooner!”

Well, it wasn’t like Yuuri hadn’t thought about it before. With Minako’s connections, there could’ve easily been a way to arrange something where Yuuri and Viktor could cross paths.

And yet Yuuri never allowed such a thing to happen. “Uhm… She had offered in the few months before Phichit set me up with the job with Mila, but… Well, I just wasn’t quite ready to believe I belonged in this world yet.”

Viktor’s expression softened, understanding filling his eyes. No doubt he was remembering their conversation from last night. He reached down and held Yuuri’s hand. “Well,” he said, “then things worked out how they were supposed to in the end. That’s what matters.”

Smiling, Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand then looked at his phone again. He typed out a reply to Minako for when she landed. “She used to tell me stories about Fashion Week, but she hasn’t been to one in a while even though her friends invite her. I wonder why she decided to come this year?”

“To see you, of course!” Viktor said. “I bet she wants to see her best pupil in action. Oh! Should we pick her up from the airport?”

“Don’t even think about it!” Yakov, who had just ended his phone call, shook a finger at Viktor. “Don’t you go off now, Vitya! You know there’s still some PR we want to get out of the way before we start getting ready for the show! And didn’t you say you needed to discuss something with Seung Gil?”

Viktor groaned, starting to lay more heavily on Yuuri until he toppled over onto his lap. “That stuff’s _boring_ , Yakov, don’t we pay people for that?”

“You’re the face of this brand, you know your presence is important,” Yakov said sternly.

“Just get off your ass and do your damn job already, old man!” Yuri snapped.

As his boyfriend continued to sulk via hugging Yuuri tightly around his middle, Yuuri ran a reassuring hand up and down Viktor’s back. “They’re right, Viktor, we had our day off yesterday. Let’s start the week off right.”

Viktor glanced up at him. His pout was adorable under the slight muss of his fringe, nose buried against Yuuri’s stomach. “And what about you? I probably can’t see you until the PR meetings are done…”

“Well then, the sooner you get them out of the way…”

That got Viktor to perk up, and he rose up with a smile and a new purpose. “Okay, I’ll do it! Just remember to put your new outfit on for the show, okay?” Viktor leaned in, brushing aside Yuuri’s bangs to kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you later, _zvyozdochka_.”

“Mm, go do your job now,” Yuuri said with a fond little laugh. Both of them ignored Yuri’s gagging in the background -- at least he didn’t yell at them anymore like he did when he first found out about their relationship.

(“I can’t believe you somehow ruined my life even _more_ by finally confessing to him!” Yuri had growled to Viktor for a week straight.)

“Be good, boys~!” Viktor lilted as he joined Yakov and Lilia out the door. And just like that, the trio was gone.

After finishing up the last gulps of coffee, Yuuri got up and stretched. Stammi Vicino’s show was scheduled for the middle of the afternoon, which gave Yuuri some free time. There were several other fashion shows peppered around New York during the week, so maybe he could stop by one? He didn’t want to go alone though -- was Phichit free too? Yuuri sent him a quick text as he pondered what to do.

“Dare I ask what Viktor meant by your new outfit?” Yuri said, wrinkling his nose.

Yuuri’s cheeks grew warm. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. It’s something from SV, actually. It’s so beautiful, Yurio, it’s all sparkly and flowy, and--” He paused, looking down at his bare feet.

At the abrupt pause, Yuri glanced up from his phone. “What?”

“Oh. I just realized I don’t...have any good shoes for the outfit.” But that couldn’t be right, could it? Yuuri went into his and Viktor’s room, looking through the line of shoes he’d brought with him. They were nice and matched his other outfits, but he didn’t have nearly as many options as, say, Viktor who brought two whole cases of shoes alone. And he definitely didn’t have anything that would compliment the gorgeous outfit Viktor had so generously gifted him.

“Oh my god.” Yuuri slapped his hands over his face. “I’m an idiot.”

Yuri had followed him inside the room, and he tsked at the sight of Yuuri’s selection of shoes. “Well. You know _Viktor’s_ the real idiot for getting you a whole new get-up but somehow forgetting shoes for it. God, he really is losing it.” Yuri crossed his arms, his frown deeper than usual. After some thought, he sighed. “Do you...want me to help you shop for some?”

Yuuri was surprised at the offer. “Yurio…”

“Don’t misunderstand! I know your taste is probably as crappy as Viktor’s! I just don’t want you guys tainting Stammi Vicino’s name during this week!” Yuri scowled at nothing in particular. “So, like… I’ll help you out just this once.”

Yuuri smiled, gratitude filling his chest. “I’d appreciate that, Yurio.” His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out to see new messages.

 

**From: Phichit**

_Heck yeah man we’ve got some free time!_

_We gotta head out a little earlier for street shots before the show but_

_We should totes hang!!_

 

_ >Wanna go shopping with me and yurio then? _

_ >He’s gonna help me find some shoes for today _

 

**From: Phichit**

_RUNNING TO ELEVATOR NOW_

 

“Hey, Yurio, are you okay with Phichit coming, too?”

Yuri wrinkled his nose a bit. It wasn’t that he hated Phichit, it was just that Yuri, well, didn’t like _anyone_. And Phichit’s sunny personality sometimes threw the teenager off. Last Yuuri checked though, they had gotten along pretty well, with Phichit managing to win Yuri over like he did with everyone else.

Yuri shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s go now though so that we can get back in time.”

“You really are responsible when you want to be,” Yuuri noted with a smile.

Although Yuri’s cheeks grew slightly pink, it didn’t seem purely out of frustration. Yuri just twirled a strand of his hair around his finger and grumbled, “Someone in this damn place has to be!”

* * *

  
Yuri led the group with a particular shop in mind, explaining that Mila had taken him there before. During the walk, Phichit excitedly began recounting his adventures the previous day with Celestino and his other friends, pulling up Instagram and Snapchat whenever visuals were necessary. Yuuri smiled and nodded along -- he couldn’t help but think fast-paced New York was just the place for someone like Phichit; the city suited him well.

Familiar fashion shops that he’d walked by with Viktor yesterday filled the street. One new thing Yuuri noticed though were the people that dotted the street with expensive cameras, taking shots of stylish people that posed for them. It really seemed like Fashion Week had spread through the whole city.

Yuri led them inside a store with a stunning display of several shoes modeled by mannequins at the window. The inside was simple and clean, with white and gold tiling on the floor. It was the last place he would’ve expected Yuri to want to be in, and it made him feel all the more touched to know that the teenager probably picked it out for his sake.

A well-groomed woman managing to stand perfectly straight with silver high heels on smiled at them. “Hello, gentlemen, is there anything I can help you find today?”

“Uh--”

“We’ve got it,” Yuri said with a vague wave. He pulled out his phone, wandering down the aisles of shoes.

Most of them were readily displayed on racks, rather than being stuffed in boxes. Shining Oxfords, elaborately decorated brogues, and heels in every color and with every type of decoration on them stood proudly on the racks. Yuuri and Phichit exchanged voiceless “Wow”s.

“This is spiffy as hell,” Phichit said, looking at a row of leather boots with interest.

“Hey, this is the outfit you said Viktor got, right?” Yuri held out his phone, an image pulled up from Stammi Vicino’s official site.

Yuuri pushed up his glasses to get a look. “Oh! Yeah, that’s the one.”

Yuri scoffed. “Of course Viktor would go all-out for you like this.” He started scanning through the aisles, but to Yuuri’s shock, he didn’t gravitate towards the sleek leathery dress shoes.

No, Yuri was very intently examining the selection of _heels_. Yuuri widened his eyes. “Wait, what are you looking at? They had some, uh, Derbys over there that had a good color.”

Now Yuri looked at him with wide eyes. And disgust. Definitely disgust. “You want to wear _Derbys_ with that outfit?” he spat, incredulous.

Yuuri shrank back. “N...o?”

But it was too late to take it back. Yuri looked like he wanted to kill him. “Oh my god, this is _exactly_ why I came! You were literally gonna make our brand trash in front of everyone! UGH, just stick to your fucking eyeliners and let me handle the _actual_ fashion, you godless swine!” Muttering angrily under his breath in Russian, he went back to the heels.

“Brutal,” Phichit said sympathetically, coming up behind Yuuri. “Hey, what do you think of these boots?” He struck some poses with his legs, showing off the heeled ankle boots he had on.

“Those look kinda hot,” Yuuri admitted. “I didn’t know you could walk in heels though.”

“Neither did I!” Phichit laughed. “I found my secret superpower. Well, other than taking the best selfies in the world. And honestly, the heel isn’t that high.” He took some confident strides, looking at himself in the full-length mirror between the racks. “Oh, _hell_ yes, defs getting these.”

“Here,” Yuri suddenly reappeared, holding out a pair of dark-blue heels that had at least twenty skimpy straps crossed over it. “These should be in your size, try them on.”

Yuuri took the shoes with uncertainty, staring in horror at the skinny stick of a heel. Were these _stilettos_? “Can I start with something a little less...extreme?” he asked. Under Yuri’s narrowed gaze though, he reluctantly sat down on the nearby bench and tried the heels on.

“Okay, now stand up,” Yuri ordered.

“That’s not happening,” Yuuri immediately said. At Yuri’s glare, he said, “I can’t! I’m gonna trip and break the shoes before I even take one step! Yeah, no, nope, I don’t want these.” Quickly, Yuuri slipped the heels off.

Phichit pouted. “Aw, you should’ve let me at least take a picture. You looked sexy in those.”

Putting the heels back on the rack, Yuuri said, “You know what’s not sexy? Tripping in front of cameras. I get to hide in the dressing room the whole time, right?”

“You’re a part of Viktor’s little entourage now, which is why we’re doing this shit,” Yuri said, scanning through the shoes once more. “Ugh, there’s so much rose gold… Oh, finally.” He plucked up another pair of heels, shoving them in Yuuri’s direction. “Try these, you weenie!”

Scowling, Yuuri took the shoes. The heel at least looked a lot more inviting -- it was tall but not as frighteningly thin as before, so Yuuri would hopefully be able to keep better balance on them. They were a simple gold color and open-toed, and the ankle strap consisted of three gold chains. Yuuri carefully slipped his feet inside and secured the chains. Then he stretched his legs out, admiring their look on him.

They looked...really nice. Elegant, but sexy too.

Phichit laughed, patting his back. “Well don’t just _stare_ at them. Come on, Yuuri, those heels were made for walkin’!”

Shakily, Yuuri rose to his feet, taking in the strangeness of his new height. He gave a little laugh. “Oh, wow.”

“How are they?” Yuri asked. “Heels are a bitch to stand in for long, so they can’t pinch too much.”

Yuuri tested the feel of his weight in the shoes, shifting from one foot to the other. “They feel fine.”

“Take some steps!” Phichit encouraged. “Strut for us, do a twirl!”

Yuuri moved forward, pleasantly surprised to not feel entirely like a newborn baby deer. Feeling more confident, he walked down the aisle then came rounding back, a smile slowly growing on his lips. When he made it back to the others, his chest felt light and giddy, and he clicked the heels together.

“I think I like these.”

“You better!” Phichit exclaimed with a grin. “Do you know how amazing your legs and ass look in those? Like, more so than usual, of course.” He snapped his fingers. “Wait, don’t take them off, I have to take pictures!”

As Phichit pulled out his phone, Yuri appraised Yuuri with narrowed eyes. Eventually he too wore an approving grin. “Heh. So you _can_ put lipstick on a pig. You’re walking all wrong though, you’re going to trip like that.”

Yuuri crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. “Are you telling me _Yuri Plisetsky_ , who hates putting on makeup and wearing flowery clothes, knows how to wear heels?”

Yuri snorted. “Do I fucking know how to wear heels.” He scanned down the aisle and picked up the nearest shoes in his size and put them on. Raising his nose in challenge, he sashayed right past Yuuri, confidence and grace in his every step as if he were stepping out onto a runway. If Yuuri didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked like the teenager wore heels every day instead of his tiger-print sneakers.

At the end of the aisle, Yuri turned dramatically around, cocking his hip out. “You have no idea the training my mom had me go through to be in this industry. So come on, Katsuki,” he grinned, “show me what you can do!”

* * *

They left the store half an hour later after all three of them engaged in a crash course to strutting in heels. Phichit got his boots, and Yuuri his heels, still laughing from their impromptu in-store runway show. Even Yuri was smiling and bumping his shoulder playfully against Yuuri’s, and indulging Phichit in some group selfies. Once or twice they were stopped by one of the camera people for quick shots -- Yuuri couldn’t even be shocked, he was too busy laughing at the contrast between Phichit’s peace sign and Yuri’s middle finger.

By the time they got back to the hotel, it was time for Phichit to head out with Celestino, and Yuri went with Lilia so she could get him ready for the show. Viktor would be back from his last meeting in another two hours, so Yuuri decided he’d shower and get dressed before things started getting too busy.

Although Yuuri already had a general idea of how NYFW went, Mila and Viktor had both given him a short run-down on how the week would go, and it was basically the main players like the models and designers being tossed from one place to the next. Yuuri’s job was to trail along and make sure that Viktor looked good at all times, though he’d mostly be in the background, which Yuuri was more than fine with.

As soon as he stepped out of the shower, he noticed that his phone was lit up with several messages. One was from Viktor, giving him an update and saying that he couldn’t wait to see him soon. Another was from Minako, but before Yuuri could open it, his phone started ringing.

“H-hello?”

“ _Yuuri!_ ” came Minako’s excited voice. “ _I’ve landed in New York. Surprise~!_ ”

Yuuri sat down on the bed with a laugh, scrubbing the towel through his hair. “Yeah, you sure did surprise me. I didn’t know you wanted to come, you hadn’t for the past few years.”

“ _Well, yeah, fashion shows are fun and all…”_ The sound of traffic blared in the background, she must’ve just walked outside. _“But I didn’t have you to support yet! I called in some favors weeks ago to arrange things, so I’ll be with some friends later on, but I wanted to see you first! Are you too busy?”_

“Oh, no. Actually, you came at a perfect time, everyone is still out doing meetings right now. Want me to text you the address of where I’m staying?”

In less than half an hour, Minako was at the door, and she gave Yuuri a huge hug as soon as he opened up. Even as Yuuri nearly staggered, he couldn’t help but be elated over his teacher’s familiar presence and returned her hug.

Minako pulled back and started tousling his hair. “Yuuri~ How’s New York treating you, kiddo?”

“It’s...lively,” Yuuri settled on saying with a small laugh. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you at the airport.”

“Don’t worry about it, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. Speaking of which, were you in the middle of getting ready? Because that’s such a gorgeous outfit!” Minako set her bag down off to the side and followed Yuuri further in. She continued to appraise the clothes Viktor had given him with, squealing. “To think you’ve been hiding under sweaters all your life!”

“You’re looking too closely!” he exclaimed when she lifted up the jacket’s long tail. “A-anyway, want to see the room? It’s really nice.”

Minako followed him, her eyebrows raising at their lavish surroundings. “Wow, they really didn’t spare expenses, did they? Heh, just look at you moving on up, Yuuri.”

Inside the bedroom he shared with Viktor, Minako took a brief, disbelieving glance at his mountain of suitcases before taking a seat at the foot of the bed with a content sigh.

Yuuri sat next to her. “Is the salon going to be okay if you close it for a whole week?”

“It’ll be fine. Minami really has been working hard ever since you left, so he volunteered to help watch over the place with another friend of mine.” She smiled. “The boy is talented, and seems to have a lot of fun with the customers. He’s been collecting recent photos of Viktor, but every time someone brings it up, he quickly launches off on your technique and style on the makeup. Pfft, I don’t think he even particularly cares about Viktor himself.”

 _Sure sounds like Minami,_ Yuuri thought with a laugh. Yuuri made a mental note to himself to keep better in touch with him.

“Speaking of Viktor, he’ll be here soon. Do you mind if I put on my makeup so I’ll be ready?”

Minako’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Yuuri, could I do it for you? For old time’s sake?”

Yuuri gave her a warm smile. “Actually, I’d really appreciate that. The closer it gets to the show, the more shaky I get.” Even now, he just realized he was jiggling his leg up and down. He slapped a hand down on his knee to stop it.

“Shouldn’t that be the line of models, since _they_ ’re going to be the ones with a hundred cameras in their faces?” Minako joked. “Although, really, with this outfit, I would think you’re going to be the one strutting your stuff on stage.”

“Oh man, no way.” Yuuri got up and went into the bathroom. He took a seat on the vanity’s chair, leaving everything open to Minako, his kit already open and ready.

This made Yuuri feel oddly young. It was just so familiar to sit down like this and have Minako do his makeup, bringing nostalgia to those first years of his passion for cosmetics and beauty. The distance between the him back then and who he was now was greater than he ever thought possible. Still, he couldn’t help but feel simultaneously proud and humble as Minako’s well-practiced hands started lightly dancing over his face with brushes.

His mind eventually went back to her earlier comment. He couldn’t help it, he was a kid with fancy dreams too once, and hadn’t Viktor been the one who told him that all models started out as kids playing dress-up in their closets?

“Do you think I could do it?”

Somehow, Minako seemed to know exactly what he meant. She cradled his face, gently brushing a strand of his bangs back. “I think you can do anything, Yuuri. I’ve always thought that.”

Yuuri met her kind gaze, chest full of gratitude for the woman who had been his role model since he was a kid. Before Viktor, and even after him, Minako was his best teacher. Feeling his eyes sting, he quickly ducked his head. “You’re gonna make me mess up the mascara you just put on me.”

Minako laughed, giving a soft pat to his cheek before continuing on. She put a garnet red over his lips, and midnight blue over his eyelids that shimmered with gold glitter in the light. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile at his reflection. Just for today, he decided to swap his glasses for his contacts to properly show off his teacher’s work.

After she was done, Minako all but demanded Yuuri put on his shoes once he told her about his purchase earlier. As soon as he stood up, gold heels on his feet, she just about screamed in glee.

“YUUUUURI, oh my GOD!” Her hands flailed around him, like she was witnessing her child take its first steps. “I didn’t even know you knew how to walk in heels! Look at you, give me a twirl -- oh, my sweet protégé! You’ve c-come...so far…”

In the face of impending tears, Minako quickly fanned herself with her hand, trying to calm herself down. Yuuri panicked and held her shoulders. “W-wait, what’s wrong?”

Minako sniffed, still fanning her eyes to save her makeup. “Nothing. I just -- always knew this was something you could do. This is someone I always knew you could be.”

Now it was Yuuri’s eyes that started to sting with tears again. He quickly blinked them away, clearing his throat. Then he hugged Minako, the heels making him much taller than her. It made him feel like he could hold anything in his arms.

“Thanks for being there from the beginning,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m only here because you taught me so much. You can’t exactly watch _me_ , but -- you’ll watch Viktor, right?”

“Of course!” She pulled back, having finally calmed down. “Well, SV usually hosts some great after-parties, so I’ll probably see you then, but still save some time for me! I want to introduce you to some old friends I’ve talked to you about -- oh, and I bet _you_ can introduce me to some people, too~”

Yuuri shook his head. “Chris has a _boyfriend_.”

“Introduce me to him too,” she said without missing a beat. She grabbed Yuuri in a one-armed hug and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Make sure you kick all the ass this week, Yuuri.”

He laughed. “Will do.”

* * *

  
A few minutes later, Minako left to meet up with her friends at their fashion show. Yuri came back half an hour later, freshly coiffed, dressed, and with makeup on thanks to Lilia’s attentive care. Lilia’s own appearance was different than usual, with her hair that was usually in a tight bun now falling elegantly down her shoulders. Following right behind were Viktor and Yakov, speaking in animated Russian as Viktor cradled his phone and Yakov seemed to give advice as he flipped through some papers on a clipboard.

Eventually, whatever was being said seemed to escalate, as Yakov snatched Viktor’s phone and started speaking firmly to the caller. Viktor left him to it, his expression lighting up at the sight of Yuuri.

“Yuuri! Oh, those meetings took forever!” He strode over to Yuuri, arms open.

Yuuri got up with a smile, heels clacking over the floor. It made Viktor stop dead in his tracks as he looked down to Yuuri’s feet with wide eyes. His lips parted, like he lost his breath.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re...wearing heels.”

“Yurio thought I should dress to impress,” Yuuri said, face growing warm under Viktor’s awed gaze. He stuck out his foot, posing in his heels. “And I ended up really liking these. What do you think?”

After a moment of just gaping and staring, Viktor finally found his voice. “What do I _think_ ? I think we should get you a modeling contract, _zvyozdochka_ , before you capture other brands’ attention again.” He took the final steps to Yuuri and encircled his arms around his waist before kissing him tenderly. Yuuri let himself fall into the soft fullness of Viktor’s lips, unable to resist a small lick.

“Is that strawberry? I didn’t put that on you.”

“Oh no? Want to put something _else_ on me?” Viktor lowered his voice, breath ghosting over Yuuri’s lips with a grin.

Before they could get more than a single kiss in, Yakov had hung up the phone and started snapping his fingers at them. “Viktor, Yuuri! Get what you need and get downstairs right now, our car is already pulling up! Where are the others?” He tossed Viktor’s phone to the sofa and headed out the door, growling in Russian under his breath.

Yuuri quickly went into the bathroom and got his kit along with some of Viktor’s skin and hair care essentials. Seung Gil would take the racks of clothing over to the venue with some of the other designers’ help, so Yuuri hoped that meant everything else was taken care of. When he got back outside, Lilia was doing some last-minute pat-downs over Yuri’s braided hair.

“If you have everything, let’s go. It wouldn’t do to be late.”

“Models are always _fashionably_ late,” Viktor said as they went out the door. Both Yuri and Yuuri groaned.

“I should never have taught you that pun,” Yuuri said. “It’s all you ever say now when we have to leave.”

“Oh, come on, _lyubov moya_ , don’t hate me!” Viktor’s eyes glinted mischievously. “We should kiss and... _makeup_.”

Yuri made an infuriated yell down the hall, and Yuuri just playfully shoved Viktor away, nearly tripping over his heels before Viktor caught him and he laughed in his boyfriend’s arms.

* * *

  
Everything felt pretty fast-paced after that. There was still so much to do and prepare for that Mila ended up suggesting that Georgi and Yuuri start on their makeup in the car, since they knew the lineup of outfits.

“This wasn’t what I pictured getting ready for the big show would be like,” Yuuri said, trying to keep things light as he pinned Viktor’s bangs back.

The car was big enough to have eight seats, with Lilia sitting next to Viktor and Yuuri (which gave Yuuri absolutely zero pressure as he fussed over making Viktor’s lipstick immaculate between heavy stops), and Yuri in the very back with Mila and Georgi.

Mila gave a tiny laugh. “Really? This is almost how it always is. Especially with us.”

“Yes, and I hate it,” Georgi sniffed. “It really rushes artists like us, Yuuri. At least I already did your hair, Mila.”

“Suddenly I’m glad you never re-grew yours,” Yuuri said to Viktor, to which his boyfriend shrugged.

“Who knows,” he said with a smile, “I might decide to surprise everyone again.”

Luckily, Yuuri managed to finish Viktor’s first round of makeup just as a familiar building came into view. Outside of it, there was a flood of stylish people and individuals with cameras. The name of the building was Industria, and Yuuri knew it to be one of the more popular places holding shows for this week.

And yet they drove right _past_ it. Yuuri frowned. “Wait -- wasn’t that Industria?”

“It is. Lovely venue, isn’t it?” Viktor said with an airy smile. “I do enjoy watching shows there, and the after-parties are amazing.”

Yuuri squinted at him. “Why are we passing it up? Isn’t that where we’re going for the show?”

“Maybe for some other designers,” Mila said.

“But we’re going somewhere different, _zvyozdochka_ ,” Viktor said, reaching a hand out to squeeze his thigh. “Me and Yakov already informed the media during our meetings today. Hardcore fashion followers will have already noticed the schedule change by now too. And don’t worry, after you told me that Minako was coming, I went ahead and texted her about it.”

“Wait, how did you get her… You know what, nevermind, you managed to find out where I _worked_ without me telling you.” Yuuri shook his head, an incredulous smile on his lips. As for the change in location for the show, he really should’ve remembered what the brand he worked for was like. It wasn’t the first time Stammi Vicino chose a different venue than the usual, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“So,” he said, taking another look around their surroundings, “where are we going then?”

“Oh, you’ll love it!” Mila exclaimed. “Georgi was actually the one to suggest it this year.”

On cue, Georgi touched a hand to his chest. “I had a dream of one day having a romantic escape with my beloved there before--”

“Don’t ruin the magic,” Mila said, putting a hand in front of his face. She gave Yuuri a secret smile. “Just wait and see, it’s gorgeous!”

Yuuri decided to trust her word on it and settled for looking out the window again to the streets of New York that were all slowly becoming colorful spectacles like concrete runways. That sight too eventually changed once they crossed onto the Brooklyn Bridge, the buildings halting behind them to give way to the vast East River glittering in the afternoon sun. Yuuri gazed in amazement at the towers glowing from the sunlight, and the buildings of Brooklyn growing closer and closer.

Only after they got off the bridge did Yakov finally breathe a sigh of relief. A crowd of people dotted the brilliant green park stretching out right beside the bridge, all of them clustered inside one of the piers with lights decorating its trees and thrumming steadily with music.

Viktor was the first out of the car, and helped Yuuri out with an inviting smile. “What do you think?” he asked, squeezing both his hands.

“This is... _so_ much better than Industria,” Yuuri said.

“Isn’t it? Since this show is for the upcoming spring and summer collection, we agreed it’d be better to do everything outside with the sun shining and the water in the background. It’ll save us the trouble of doing street shoots with the clothes as well.”

“Stammi Vicino thinks of everything.”

“As always,” Viktor said, looking proud.

Yakov came out of the car, already back to business. “Viktor, don’t just stand there! You and Mila hurry up and get to Seung Gil and get dressed! We’ll not start even a second late!”

“ _Da_!” Viktor continued to hold Yuuri’s hand, and he nodded towards the direction he’d lead them in. Mila and the others followed closely behind.

The pier was divided into three separate lawns, all with spectacular views of the bridge, the water, and the buildings of lower Manhattan across the river. Rows of chairs had been set up in the furthermost lawn, already filled with people. Running right through the middle of it was a pristine, elevated runway. Viktor led them to the middle lawn where a large tent with Stammi Vicino’s logo printed on the side was set up.

Seung Gil was inside, surrounded by racks of clothes and shoes, all ready to go for the show. At the end of the tent, a large and surprisingly well-lit vanity was set up. Yuuri and Georgi put their kits down next to Michele’s as their models got changed into their first outfits behind foldable partitions. Yuri and the younger models seemed to have gone into a separate tent with Lilia. Everyone was buzzing this way and that to prepare for the start of the show.

“Ah.”

“Something wrong, Yuuri?” Georgi asked.

“Oh -- nothing much. But I just realized we have to stay in here, right?”

Georgi nodded. “Us three and Seung Gil will keep things flowing from in here when Mila and the others do their wardrobe changes.”

Yuuri masked his disappointment with a smile. “Guess we can’t see the show ourselves then. Well, I’m grateful enough to participate in it, even if indirectly.” He busied himself with arranging the cosmetics he already planned out to match Viktor’s next outfits.

Ever since he was introduced to Viktor, Yuuri had kept up with watching every one of his shows. Now that he was Viktor’s makeup artist, of course Yuuri couldn’t always see him directly, but he’d always looked forward to seeing Viktor strut his stuff during the fashion parade of NYFW up close and personal.

On the other side of him, Michele huffed. “Do you think I come to shows without full intentions of watching Sara out on the runway? If we go out the back of the tent, we’ll have a pretty good view of the show itself.” He glared at both Yuuri and Georgi. “Just don’t you dare lay your eyes on--”

“Micky! Calm down!” Sara had finished changing and, now standing proudly in heels, narrowed her eyes down at her brother. “You know that Yuuri and Viktor are together, and Georgi is… Well, I’m not his type.”

Before Michele could get after them for _that_ , Yakov alerted that the show would start in five minutes. From behind his partition, Viktor called Yuuri’s name.

Yuuri went over. “Something wrong, Viktor?”

“Can you help me with these buttons, Yuuri? I think they’re stuck.”

“What?” Yuuri grew alarmed. “If there’s something wrong with the outfit, you should tell Seung-- Oh!” Yuuri gasped as Viktor pulled him behind the partition and held him close. In one soft movement, Viktor’s mouth was over his.

When the gentle kiss was broken, Yuuri was left stunned. Viktor was smiling. “Good luck charm,” he explained.

Yuuri relaxed, his expression softening. “You don’t need that. Now go on and surprise the world.”

Viktor was halfway to leaving before Yuuri caught his wrist.

“Wait!” He had Viktor face him then pressed a firm kiss right at the corner of Viktor’s lips, leaving a perfect garnet mark behind. It complemented Viktor’s fair skin and the color of the spring jacket hanging off his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said, feeling proud of himself and not at all sorry. “Your makeup just looked like it was missing one last thing.”

Surprised as he was, the grin quickly came back to Viktor’s lips. “Well,” he said, “who am I to question your inspiration?” His finger curled under Yuuri’s chin, his thumb stroking the soft skin. “I’m going to go show off our love to all of them. It might not be a competition anymore, but that’s what I want to bring with me to the runway.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri looked pointedly to the kiss mark. “That’s why I’m going to be with you, too.”

The disco beat outside grew louder, and Yakov called for the models to line up. After one last kiss, Viktor departed, and soon the only ones in the tent were Seung Gil, Georgi, Michele, and Yuuri.

“Hey, closet pervert!” Michele yelled.

Yuuri emerged out from Viktor’s partition. “That’s not me, right?”

“Who else goes around kissing up their model?” Michele huffed. And, well, Yuuri couldn’t argue with that after the first time Michele caught him. “Anyway, you wanted to watch the show, right?” He nodded to the back of the tent and proceeded to slip between the flaps.

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder. “Seung Gil, do you want to--? Huh?” Yuuri looked through the racks of clothing, but couldn’t spot Seung Gil anywhere. Maybe he was helping Lilia in the other tent?

The applause picked up outside, and so Yuuri decided to drop it and join Michele and Georgi. The back of the tent led up to a view of the river, and a crowd of photographers and show attendees sat facing away from them. Phichit was among them, camera already up. Right beside him sat Seung Gil, who was nodding along to things that Phichit was saying. Yuuri made a mental note to ponder _that_ little development later and followed Michele to the railings behind the crowd to get a good view of the wide granite steps that the models gracefully descended.

Sara was first down the steps, her hips swaying in time with the music’s heavy pulse. Yuuri looked over to see Michele was sniffing, tears overflowing his eyes.

“Don’t look!” he said with a watery voice, apparently to the men in the crowd who leaned forward in interest. He tried grabbing for the camera of the nearest person -- who coincidentally was Emil, a fellow photographer that worked with Phichit. Sara paid none of them mind, continuing to sashay past them and giving her long, shining black hair a flip over her shoulder.

Mila followed close behind, a spring in her step with the poppy change in music. Behind her were some of the younger female models. After walking down the stairs, they looped around to the runway, where the greater crowd sat and clapped at their entrances.

After the ladies had gone, Michele and Georgi left to help their models with their wardrobe change.

Yuuri lingered, daring to approach a little closer when he saw Viktor coming down the steps. He felt a warm mix of pride and love at watching Viktor’s confident walk, the sun shining in the silk of his platinum hair.

The camera shutters sounded faster, and a trio of girls sitting in front of Yuuri gasped. _“Oh my god, there he is!”_ they squealed, leaning forward. One of the security guards standing a few feet from Yuuri gave them a wary glance; photos on their phones were prohibited.

Viktor stepped to the beat of the music, seeming to have fun as he struck a playful pose at the foot of the stairs. The girls continued to giggle among themselves.

“God, those pants make his legs look _amazing_.”

“Look at the kiss mark on him! I’m so jealous of whoever got to do that.”

“His new boyfriend, maybe?”

“Viktor _never_ shows them off, though-- Wait! Is he looking this way!?”

Viktor passed by, secret smile on his lips as he looked directly at Yuuri and winked. Anyone could practically see the sparkles emanating from his charm. Yuuri tried to steady himself from almost falling over, then gave a shy wave. The girls in front of him weren’t far behind in melting straight to the floor.

“Did he seriously look at us? Guys, I’m going to die!”

“No, wait, he…” One of the girls turned, and that of course prompted her friends to look back right at Yuuri.

He froze. “H-hi…”

The first girl squinted, trying to place him. “You’re…”

“Yuuri Katsuki!” stage-whispered her friend, a huge grin on her lips. “Oh my god, you’re Viktor’s makeup artist! Then you were the one who...” Her eyes grew wide, excited. “Are you Viktor’s _boyfriend_?”

“I’m-- That’s…” He gestured back towards the tent. “I’ve got to go.” And he dashed away, well, as much as he could manage in new heels. His face felt hot and it had nothing to do with being under the sun.

The show went on, and eventually Viktor was back inside the tent, wearing a big grin and looking like he was having the time of his life. It eased Yuuri’s tension to see him so happy and in his element; it was what he deserved after everything Yuuri had learned about his worries. Viktor’s excitement was contagious as he got redressed and Yuuri quickly helped him adjust his makeup. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to do a complete do-over, but he still made a mental promise to spoil Viktor’s poor skin with some treatment after being subjected to all these wipes.

He readied the cloth to wipe off the kiss mark, but then paused, remembering the girls from before.

They’d noticed Viktor looking at him, and had to have realized that the kiss mark on Viktor’s face was the exact color of Yuuri’s lipstick. To anyone else who could connect the dots, it was obvious that someone had staked a claim on Viktor, that there was someone Viktor wanted that close to him.

After a moment, he lowered the wipe, leaving the kiss mark alone. “Alright, you’re ready.”

Viktor examined himself in the mirror with delight before noting Yuuri beside him. “What’s that amused look for?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on, Yuuri, let me in on the joke~”

“There’s no joke. I’m being serious.” Yuuri laughed to himself then started ushering Viktor out of the tent. “Now hurry and get back out there.”

And so the rest of the afternoon went on, until the sun was starting to set and the last model -- Yuri -- did his last walk down the runway, and a round of applause erupted. Guests started to head for the bridge view lawn, where the after-party was being held.

To Yuuri’s surprise, the three girls from before (he learned their named were Suzy, Aimee, and Tara) had continued to engage in conversation with him, even after finding out who he was. They recognized him from Viktor and Mila’s social media, and of course from the interview. But they had been very friendly with him, chatting away about how they got into the show and trading beauty tips with him.

As soon as the show was done, they asked for a group selfie with him. Suzy, a fairly tall Southeast Asian girl, took the selfie and started to post it. Tara, pale-skinned and petite, leaned close to him and said, “So that really was you that kissed Viktor, right?”

The three friends immediately leaned in eagerly. Yuuri glanced around. “Uhm…”

“We swear we won’t post anything online!”

“I-I’m just his makeup artist,” he finally said. “So, I mean, if I wanted to get that effect, of course I’m the one to do it, right?” He gestured uselessly. “For aesthetics, you know.”

The girls nodded slowly, obviously not believing his explanation but going along with it anyway. “Yeah. Of course, aesthetics,” they agreed with giggles. Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh a little too.

Aimee suddenly gasped as she looked at her phone. “Guys! The next show is starting in twenty minutes, we have to go!”

As her friends quickly scampered off, waving their byes to Yuuri, Suzy turned back to him with a grin. “I think you and Viktor are super cute together,” she stage-whispered. Then, with a wink, she was off with the others.

Yuuri couldn’t fight the grin off of his face. As soon as he tried taking a step forward though, the ball of his foot screamed in protest. Yuuri winced, trying not to full-on limp back inside the tent.

Viktor was waiting for him inside, dressed in a different outfit again. Yuuri was starting to understand why Viktor had needed to pack half his closet. His new ensemble matched Yuuri’s in color scheme -- black slacks, midnight-blue shirt, and a form-fitting suit jacket that was also a pretty dark-blue with swirls of gold embroidered onto it. The kiss mark had finally been wiped off, much to Viktor’s disappointment, but Yakov had insisted on it to keep up his best appearance for the people they’d be seeing.

Kiss mark or not though, Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He stared at the beautiful wrap of the clothing on him, like Viktor was wearing night itself. The designs on his jacket were a cascade of crescent moons while Yuuri’s mapped out the stars. It made Yuuri wonder if Viktor had chosen the outfit with that specific thought in mind. Well, it didn’t matter what Yuuri looked like, because Viktor was clearly the silver-haired god of the evening. It would’ve been unfair how gorgeous Viktor could be constantly if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuuri got to see this sight first. _If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s mine._

“There you are, Yuuri.” His voice broke Yuuri out of his awe. Viktor offered out his arm. “Ready for the after-party?”

Yuuri stared at the offered arm in surprise, but held onto it.

They made their way to the party, where crowds of fashion lovers ate and drank with a beautiful view of New York surrounding them. Yuuri could recognize some of the celebrity guests and fashion icons that mingled together, most of them wearing something from Stammi Vicino’s line. Count on SV to draw in big names to their shows and become walking promotions. Yakov was in the middle of the throng, and he motioned Viktor over.

They passed time with Viktor meeting and talking with all sorts of people. Yuuri had no doubt that part of it was for his image, and that talking to these people was what was expected of him as a top model. It did make Yuuri feel out of place to be by his side though, since he was never good at conversation. He accepted a glass of white wine that was offered out and quietly sipped at it while Viktor mingled and laughed with gorgeous strangers. He made sure to introduce Yuuri each time, but Yuuri could hardly do anything other than give a polite smile and handshake before slipping out of the conversation.

Minako was there too, and she was a welcome sight among all these people he didn’t know. She squealed happily at the sight of him, and gave him and Viktor praise for the show. There were a few of her own friends that she introduced Yuuri too, and he felt almost like her son with how she talked about him and how her friends fawned over him.

When his glass of wine was empty and there was regretfully nothing else for his hands to do, Yuuri had nothing to distract him from the pain pinching at his feet. It had been a constant throbbing through the evening, but he’d been able to ignore it with all the activity going on around him.

He tried shifting his weight from one foot then the other, but the relief was only a second before the pain came back. Yuuri took a glance over at the benches facing the river, away from the party.

“Hey,” he murmured at Viktor’s ear, “I’m going to go sit down for a bit.”

“Oh, okay. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Yuuri gave a reassuring smile. “I’m just getting a little drained. But you keep having fun! Don’t let me hold you back.” He thought about kissing Viktor’s cheek, but then thought better of it given their audience and walked away.

He made the mistake of bringing his foot up to unclasp the heel’s chain, and just as the heel came off, his other foot supporting him wobbled, and he stumbled to the ground. The undone heel fell to the side, and Yuuri cursed, but before he could reach for his shoe, a hand plucked it up. Yuuri followed the line of the arm up the familiar gold-embroidered jacket to Viktor’s handsome face.

“It isn’t even midnight yet and you’re already running away from me,” Viktor joked.

“I told you I was leaving for a bit.” Yuuri laughed a little, incredulous over his boyfriend that had decided to follow him. He got up, brushing off the grass that had stuck to his outfit. Thankfully, nothing seemed dirty or stained. “Thanks for getting that.”

“Mind if I put it back on you, Cinderella?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri’s cheeks filled with heat. He was pretty sure this had been one of his many teenage fantasies about Viktor. “Um, sure, if you want…” As Viktor kneeled down, he braced himself on Viktor’s shoulders.

Viktor hummed, pleased. “These heels really are gorgeous. It’s been hard to tear my eyes away from your feet every time I saw you. Is it weird if I say your feet are pretty? It is, isn’t it?”

“How long are you planning to stay down there?” Yuuri laughed.

But Viktor didn’t say anything in return. From Yuuri’s vantage point, he could see Viktor put the heel down, his fingertips lightly tracing over Yuuri’s foot. When he brushed against a small blister, Yuuri gave a low hiss.

“Your feet are hurt,” Viktor said, concerned. “This was your first time wearing heels, and it was for such a long period, too...” He reached out and unfasted the gold chains around Yuuri’s other ankle, tugging that heel off as well. He tsked. “You’ve got a blister here, too. Come on, let’s go sit down over there, I’ll hold your shoes.”

“Ah? Um…” It was all moving pretty fast for Yuuri, but he went along with it. Anyway, it was relief to stand solidly on the ground again, and the grass was soft under his bare feet. He followed Viktor to the bench and both of them sat down, facing the landscape of the river and the city across it -- everything gleaming a fiery orange in the last of the evening light.

Yuuri sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax after the hectic day, and now being free from his heels.

“Does that feel better?” Viktor asked, humor in his voice.

“So much,” Yuuri breathed. He stretched his legs out, wiggling his toes into the warm breeze. It might’ve been September, but the temperature was still pleasant, not too hot or cold.

“Want me to rub your feet?” Viktor offered, sounding like he’d be all too pleased to fulfill such a request, if needed.

Yuuri laughed and waved him off. “Viktor, _no_ , there’s still a lot of people around. Last thing we need is someone taking a picture and then saying you have a weird fetish.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Viktor said indignantly, scooting closer to Yuuri until they were hip to hip. “When we get back to the hotel then.”

“Mm,” Yuuri hummed in agreement. “I’ll do yours, too. You’ve been up and down the runway all day. And then all the meetings and other shows… How do you survive a week of this? I’m already exhausted.”

“Years of experience,” Viktor said. “You learn how to balance things after a while. And, well, Yakov takes a good amount of my stress. That’s why he tends to go on vacation after this, haha.”

As the sun finally disappeared behind the buildings, the fairy lights stringing through the park lit up in whites and golds. Well-placed strobe lights of blues and purples danced between the shadows and the guests of the party. On top of all that were the dots of illumination along the bridge and city, melting against the stars slowly filling the darkening sky.

Viktor and Yuuri sat a good distance away to be left alone, but the music could still pulse around them. It was all slightly calming background noise to the pretty sight in front of them. Yuuri kept wanting to ask if Viktor wanted to go back and join the party, but he seemed perfectly content to sit with Yuuri just like this. Flutters filled Yuuri’s chest from being chosen like this.

Silence lulled between them, and neither of them moved. It didn’t feel bad or awkward, which was practically a first for Yuuri. But around Viktor, he could relax, and just enjoy his presence and the sound of his content sighs floating up in the night. It made Yuuri wish that they were alone, that way he could snuggle up to Viktor’s side, maybe lay his head on his lap while they watched New York truly come alive.

But they unfortunately weren’t the only people in the world, no matter how much it felt like it. People wandered over, leaning against the rails and chatting, and others took advantage of the landscape to take pictures, the camera flashes flooding light into the night like fallen stars.

Viktor never showed off his boyfriends. And Yuuri never liked to be in the spotlight. It was likely that neither of those things would ever change.

The song playing through the speakers changed into something poppy with an upbeat dance rhythm, a pulse that easily had Yuuri tapping his foot, a familiar feeling tingling around his hips. Under his breath, he started to sing, _“Run with me, following the stars above. Running free, forever in an endless love…”_

Viktor heard his voice and smiled. “You like this song?”

“I’ve danced to it once or twice before.”

Clearly inspired judging by the sparkle in his eyes, Viktor asked in a rush, “Do you want to dance now?” He was already leaning forward, all but ready to jump up from the bench.

Yuuri actually did want to dance. It sounded nice. Romantic. But he glanced down again at his feet. “I don’t think I can put those heels on again, though, much less dance in them…”

“I wasn’t planning on you putting them on again. Not tonight anyway. If being barefoot is what bothers you…” Viktor leaned down and slipped off his own shoes and socks, placing them down with Yuuri’s heels. He got up then, offering a hand out to Yuuri. “Now… May I have this dance?”

How ridiculous of a boyfriend did he have to act so princely while barefoot in an expensive suit? But maybe Yuuri was the ridiculous one, because his heart was fluttering crazily. Giving a small smile, Yuuri took Viktor’s hand and got up.

Together, they swayed in time with the music rocking out onto the river, and up to the sky. No one else seemed to take notice, too absorbed in their own conversations to appreciate the music, the ambience, the look of love glittering in Viktor’s eyes as he danced with Yuuri, a look that Yuuri knew he had to be reflecting as well.

_This love in every beat,_

_All I want is you and me_

_Baby, we were meant to be_

Viktor came closer, reaching out for Yuuri’s hand again. Even though no one was looking at the moment, there was still the odd photographer that wove through the throng of models and celebrities. Anyone could hold up their phones too… Yuuri twirled away, playing it off as casual.

But Viktor took it as a tease -- he chased after Yuuri, fingertips brushing over his waist. Yuuri’s stomach twisted.

“Hey,” he warned over his shoulder. “Someone might take a picture. It might...start things if it gets posted.”

Viktor laughed. “I’ve had my picture taken all day, Yuuri, why would I care now?”

“Because of how we… It’s not like anyone outside of Yakov, Mila, and the others know about us being together...”

The song continued to play through the pier, the upbeat tune and loving lyrics somehow misplaced in their tense silence. Yuuri was still turned away, swaying by himself. He didn’t dare see what expression Viktor might be wearing, just in case there was anything there that would agree with Yuuri and pull away from him.

But then Viktor started dancing right in front of him. His expression was carefully neutral. “If you’re uncomfortable at all with other people seeing us, I understand. I’m not going to make the mistake of putting you in the media spotlight again without your say-so. But…” He turned his gaze hopefully to Yuuri. “If this is just for my sake, I don’t care. I just want to dance with my boyfriend.”

For one terrifying moment, Yuuri remembered the panic and pain of bringing Viktor down, the paranoia of leaving some stain on his career and image.

But he gave Viktor’s words more consideration. His desire was so simple, one anyone in love would have. And it resonated inside Yuuri’s heart.

And Yuuri decided...he didn’t care if anyone saw them. Because it was such a normal, inevitable want to be close with the person you love. They were like magnets when they were this close -- there was no way Yuuri could let anyone pull him apart from Viktor’s hands.

_The only gaze in the world that matters is yours._

Yuuri’s expression softened, and he reached out to take Viktor’s hand. His other rested on the dip of Viktor’s waist. The best thing was that instead of being shocked at his action, Viktor just smiled like he’d been gifted something wonderful. It made Yuuri’s heart beat faster at the sight coupled the feel of Viktor’s hand sliding onto his shoulder, like they were preparing for the ballroom. Tiny bubbles of laughter erupted between them as they danced, their movements growing more in sync.

But their precious alone time was short-lived. Lilia suddenly came walking towards them, long hair swishing behind her. “ _There_ you are, Viktor. You have people asking for-- Where on Earth are your shoes?” She gasped, looking at them both more properly. “Viktor, and Mr. Katsuki, too! Both of you, put on your shoes immediately, we’re in a public! The ground is filthy!”

“Oh, lighten up, Madame,” Viktor lilted with a breathless smile, twirling him and Yuuri around. “We’re just freeing ourselves, you should try it!”

“I certainly shall not!” She leaned down and grabbed their shoes, shaking them towards the pair. “Now put these back on--”

“Oh, are we having a barefoot party?” Mila was approaching them now with Sara close in tow. Behind her, her brother and Emil followed, the former yelling at him for something or another, but Emil was just laughing.

Sara sighed in relief, kicking off her own shoes. “Oh, thank goodness. Those were really starting to get suffocating.”

“Agreed,” Mila said, leaning down to slip out of all the straps of her heels. “Hey, Sara, want to show these boys how to _really_ dance?”

“Let’s go!” Sara giggled, clasped her hand, and the two were off, swinging and dancing in rhythm with the new lively tune.

With this new development, Michele’s attention left Emil and he quickly grabbed his sister’s shoes. “Sara, wait, you might step on something!”

“What the hell is all the noise over here?” Yuri showed up, looking uncomfortable in his stuffy outfit. He glared down at Yuuri’s bare feet. “Oi, pig, where are your shoes!? We worked damn hard to get you walking in them!”

“Yeah, well, they’re not so practical for dancing,” Yuuri said in his defense. He hadn’t broken away from Viktor even with all their friends now popping up. In fact, now he wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck, drawing them chest-to-chest.

“Yuuri, wow~!”

And of course at that time, Phichit appeared, dragging Seung Gil along with him. “So _this_ is where everyone was! You’re having a dance party without telling me, Yuuri? Coming through!” He went over to start swaying in the middle of their dance group, tugging along an alarmed Seung Gil.

Lilia only sighed in defeat, dropping their shoes and heading straight for the cocktail bar where Yakov was already sitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I have an actual ending for this series in mind and it's in motion. Thanks everyone for still reading this fic and giving it your love! Thank you, thank you, thank you! ;w;
> 
> I remade my tumblr! You can reach me under the username renonicecream! I hope to be able to open prompts and stuff soon!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Show Me What You're Made Of](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502896) by [Missellaineous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missellaineous/pseuds/Missellaineous)




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